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megamindsecretlair · 17 days ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 1

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: Desperately at your absolute limit, you decide to see one last therapist to try and help with your condition. After one session, Dr. Richmond manages to put you at ease, giving you enough tools to start you on your journey. As the exploration continues, your true hope is that you don’t get burned.

Word Count: 4,648k

AO3 Link

A/N: Don't judge me for this chile. I saw that beautiful man in a black turtleneck with glasses and lost my marbles. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

He came highly recommended. That was the only reason you were here. You’d stared at his pictures and read all of the available posts recommending him but you couldn’t get over the fact that he was so damn pretty. And intimidating.

But after going through nine different therapists, most who ended up as creeps or couldn’t help you, you were at your wit’s end. It was already embarrassing enough starting over with a brand new therapist, but this had to take the cake.

The hallway was quiet, with muted browns and reds. Supposedly academic, soothing colors. As if the darker the color, the less likely you were to think about anything sexual. You stared at the imposing brown door with his name embossed on a placard. Dr. Terry Richmond.

You bit your lip and stared at the slip in your hand with the referral scrawled across it. He took on special cases. Pathetic cases.

“Fuck this,” you said to yourself. You turned on your heel and stepped down the hallway. The door opened and the man himself looked down the hallway.

“Are you my two o’clock?” He asked. His deep baritone was unexpected. Soothing. Calming. Unnerving.

“Uh,” you sighed.

He continued to stare so you continued to stare back. He wore an all black outfit, right down to his black tennis shoes. He wore a long sleeved black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Black, form fitting pants that only highlighted how tall he was. He had to be 6’1. Hell, possibly 6’3.

He cleared his throat, looking for an answer. Light refracted off of his frames, temporarily hiding his eyes. You gripped the straps of your purse and squared your shoulders. “Yes,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded his head and waved you inside. You walked behind him, feeling like you were walking to your doom. Inside his office, it was just as drab as outside.

Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with medical texts and non-fictional books on powerful Black figures through history. The office was small, but clean, with a golden brown sofa pushed against a solid wall of taupe. He had a painting above the sofa, showing a serene ocean view with a boat out on the water.

Natural light filtered into the room from a window showcasing the cityscape outside. His office was high up in the building, letting you look down on all the people living their normal lives.

The door closed behind you and you jumped, whipping around to see Dr. Richmond leaning away from the door. He raised his hands. “I’m sorry, would you like it to remain open?” He asked.

You shook your head. Closed was preferable. You watched Dr. Richmond take his seat behind a massive desk, everything in a neat stack and in its proper place. He rolled forward and then opened a black folder, picking up a pen.

“Please, have a seat. Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“My thick ass file didn’t give me away? Sorry, I shouldn’t say ass. Sorry,” you said and winced after cussing so much. You pointed to a thick file on his desk and you knew without a doubt that it was yours.

It was crazy how you had a full record of your insanity, detailing how you started down this deep, dark path. Cataloged every doctor, every note, every nasty thought in your mind. Okay, you were being a little dramatic, but this was just so…embarrassing. And it didn’t help to have someone who looked like that hearing what you had to say.

“There’s no rules here. You want to say ass, go for it,” he said and shrugged.

You giggled, feeling more at ease. You nodded and took a seat on the sofa. There was a clear coffee table in front of it that held a zen garden complete with little trees, shiny rocks, and…were those Lego figures? You looked from it to him and he smirked, drawing your attention to his full, lush lips.

“Some people find it easier to occupy their hands during discussions. You can give it a try if you want,” he said.

You sat back on the sofa. Maybe later. You felt too awkward as is. Like you were some alien visitor testing out your disguise on the human population. You rubbed your sweaty palms on your leggings and shook your head. “What, uh, did my file say about me?”

Dr. Richmond shrugged and leaned back in his seat, fixing his thin gold glasses on his face. “Those are words and opinions from other doctors. I’d rather hear what you have to say,” he said and leaned back in his seat.

He was so…disarming in a way that allowed you to release the ironclad control you held on to. You picked at your nails and focused on that, rather than his stormy eyes. “I think I’m broken. And I’m not entirely sure why I’m even entertaining this,” you said.

“Why are you then?” He prompted.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Tired of feeling like a freak,” you said.

“A freak? Why would you use that term?” He asked.

You snuck a glance at him. He no longer held the pen. He rested his hands against his stomach, clasped, and just looked at you. Even that was different from all your other therapists combined.

“Because that’s what it feels like. Like I’m in a freak show. I–,” you stopped and licked your lips. But you were here now. May as well rip the bandaid off. “I can’t cum! And I know, it’s normal. I know plenty of people experience it. I know that women especially have a hard time doing it. But no matter what I fuckin’ try, I just can’t. I feel it coming, I know it’s coming, but then it sort of…goes away? And then I’m sitting there embarrassed that I can’t and when I’m with a partner, they pretend that it’s cool, but then I never hear from them again.”

You clicked your teeth shut as you realized you were rambling. You picked at a stiff hangnail, tugged at it until it started to hurt. You continued flicking at it, egged on by your awkwardness. And realizing you were being awkward was only making it worse. So you picked. And picked, until the hangnail tore and hurt worse.

“Why is it important that you cum?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. You looked at him, expecting to see pity. Disgust. Curiousness. Dr. Richmond held none of those things. His face was a pillar of stoicism, balancing the perfect mix of professionalism and empathy.

“Why is it so important to you? If you know that it’s normal and plenty of people experience it, shouldn’t the journey matter more than the destination?” He asked.

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp as you looked at him. Your mind emptied of every single possible answer to that question. It was important because…it was. Because you never got anything else right either. You were always a step behind, slow on the uptick, feeling like you were taking up too much space in the world even after shrinking yourself to the smallest possible point.

Not easy to do considering your size. You loved your body and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it wasn’t exactly easy to hide. You were unassuming, sweet, kind, and a great friend. But beneath all of that, you wanted desperately to fit in. This was a basic human release. It was part of the big three things that humans needed. Food, safety, sex. And you could only achieve one of those things.

But how did you word that without sounding like a pathetic kook? You pulled at the hangnail, felt the burn as it ripped, and shrugged your shoulders. Might as well tell the truth. “Because I feel like a freak when I can’t. Like I waited too long. To have sex, to experience life, to explore what I’m into,” you said.

“Do you think there are goal posts for life?” He asked. He may as well have been a statue for how often he moved. He retained his position, chair turned slightly towards you, as he looked at you like you were a puzzle.

“Isn’t there? That’s why we call them milestones? Reach your 18th birthday, yay you’re an adult. Find the love of your life, yay you’re married. Pop out some kids, yay, you’re continuing the bloodline. I feel like now, at my age, I should know what one fuckin’ orgasm feels like,” you said.

“How do you know you haven’t had one already?” He asked.

“I know my body. There’s nothing. There’s the build up, there’s the excitement, there’s everything leading up to it. But I never get over that peak. It just…goes away,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded and turned his attention to the pad. He wrote down a few sentences and it was so quiet in his office, you could hear a clock ticking nearby. You also heard his pen scratch against the paper. He must be using some fancy, fountain pen. He looked the type.

“What do you hope to achieve through therapy?” He asked.

You shrugged. “If I knew, you wouldn’t be my tenth therapist,” you said with a heavy sigh. When you first thought about going to therapy, you thought it wasn’t truly for you. There was nothing that really bothered you outside of life’s stress. Everybody had that.

But you ended up finding some that encouraged you to dig deep and find the woman within. The one comfortable in her skin. Encouraged you to explore your sexuality and think about it in depth. You crawled through so many forums, so many health websites, so many articles that you had a great idea of what ailed you.

“There has to be a reason you keep trying,” he said.

You leaned back into the sofa with a huff. “You definitely ask the easy questions. What happened to the intake and whatever?” You asked.

Dr. Richmond chuckled. He tapped his pen against your folder. “You’ve done plenty of that, don’t you think?”

Your lips twisted with a smile. Okay, maybe you were starting to see why he was so highly recommended. He was comforting without being condescending. Soothing without being smarmy. He treated you like an adult and for the first time, you had a little beacon of hope.

“I keep trying because I want it. I don’t have the words right now to describe why I want it. I want to know the hype. I want the relief. I want to know what post nut clarity feels like,” you said.

Dr. Richmond chuckled and you chuckled with him. It sounded funny, but you were so serious. It was exhausting at this point. Pretending like you knew what the fuck you were talking about when others asked you. Your group chat blew up with your equally single friends who were less discerning about who they took to bed.

Every other night, there were stories about dick sizes, oral, and a whole treatise on the lack of finesse these guys had. You almost snorted thinking about your best friend, Brooklyn, and how she said that no wonder men were trapping women in marriages in the past. It was the only way they could get women to be with them. It certainly wasn’t because of their pornographic sexual prowess.

“What’s been your journey with sex so far?” He asked.

You took a deep breath and told him all about it. The way that you picked up a book one day with sex in it and never looked back. In a lot of ways, that book probably shaped how you viewed sex and your sexual kinks. Before long, you were searching for more and more books with the exact same tropes. A sexy, semi-asshole alpha male that was too big to be real. 7’8, long dick, and a short attitude. Typically bad boy types with tattoos and “touch her and die” vibes. The kind to only be soft with the female main character.

You could wax poetic about why it appealed to you. Blah blah blah, you had a terrible childhood where you felt invisible. It was all there in the file if he wanted to take a gander.

“I know I’m submissive, that I want to be dominated in bed. But, whew, the game out here is ridiculous,” you said. “The men I wouldn’t mind submitting to are too damn weak to take control. The men I would never submit to act like I’m their pet already and can speak to me however they want.”

“Do you think you’re being too picky?” He asked.

You were startled into a laugh. “What gave me away, Dr. Richmond?” You asked.

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “I have a process, bear with me,” he said. That ain’t all you wanted to do. He was fine as hell. You mentally shook your head. No, you could not go there. Not at all.

You continued to discuss how you led to certain conclusions. Yes, you were picky. But why shouldn’t you be? You weren’t seeking perfection. You just wanted something normal. Something healthy. Something toe curling, mind numbing, sickeningly disgusting and sweet. Was that too much to ask for?

Dr. Richmond asked more questions and you relaxed fraction by fraction, getting right to the core of why you were seeking professional help. You told him about some of the partners you had. Some who were sweet and really tried. You had a long term boyfriend at one point who was attentive and caring. But he fell short of making you cum.

He ate you out long enough to get you wet and going and then jumped straight to sex just so he could cum. You often lied about cumming until it got too exhausting to keep up with. He promptly got mad, hurt that you lied, and possibly embarrassed that he wasn’t God’s gift to sex. His loss.

It was awkward at first to discuss such intimate details with Dr. Richmond but you often forgot he was even there. Until he asked you to expand on something you said or ask a clarifying question. Even the scratch of his pen faded into the background as you spoke about how you arrived in his office.

Dr. Richmond finally finished and leaned back in his seat once more, squaring his broad shoulders against the high back of his chair. He crossed his leg and looked at you and you briefly wondered what he’d look like without the glasses.

“We’re nearing the end of our session but I think I’m getting a clearer picture of why you’re here. After hearing from you and looking through your file, it seems like your perception of what sex really is has been skewed. Either through these books, these movies, or even porn. It’s perfectly okay to consider what you like in bed or what you prefer in a partner. But most people’s foray into their sexual journey starts with themselves. What’s your relationship like with your body?”

“I love my body,” you said, immediately. Why wouldn’t you love your body? You were gorgeous. Sure, you struggled with your weight, but you didn’t want to be thin anyway. You just wanted to roll out of bed without being out of breath sometimes. Or cut your toenails without having to stop every few minutes for air.

Dr. Richmond licked his lips and your eyes dropped immediately to it. He rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb and it drew your attention to his big hands. Too damn bad you hadn’t met him under better circumstances. You bet he could make you cum. Often.

“What else?” He asked.

“What else is there?” You asked, clearing your throat, and drawing your attention away from how drop dead gorgeous he was. Your thoughts ran wild still, picturing him in all sorts of nasty scenarios. If nothing else, your imagination was always there to show you a good time. Your own perfect world where you experienced back to back orgasms.

“What has your personal sexual journey encompassed besides you loving your body? Do you touch yourself?” He asked.

You fought every urge you had to squeeze your thighs together. How the hell did this man end up in this profession? He missed his calling as a phone sex operator. Or an erotic audio content creator. Good lord, he could have people eating out of the palm of his hand if he so wished. Swimming in a tub full of money earned from hundreds of thousands of horny bitches who could cum to his voice alone. Lucky bitches.

You shrugged. “Of course I touch myself. I can’t cum that way either,” you said.

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “This only works if you lower them walls you try so hard to hide behind,” he said.

You kissed your teeth and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. The hell did he know. So what if he had fancy doctor diplomas behind his chair. So what if he had a MD in this field. What the hell did he know?

After cursing him out two ways from Sunday in your mind, you deflated. “I know I’m not relaxed when I masterbate. I lock my door, I put on headphones, and I still feel like I’m…”

“Like you’re…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

“Being watched? Being judged? You can probably guess I grew up religious. It’s not like I had enough time or space to explore my body. My room was directly next to my parents’. If I so much as sighed too loud, my mom was banging on my wall telling me to fix my attitude,” you admitted. That had been oodles of fun. Growing up, you couldn’t even roll your eyes without someone telling you to fix your face.

“What does relax you then?” He asked.

“When I find out, I’ll tell you,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled, showing off a dazzling, mega-watt movie star smile that made your knees weak. If you weren’t already sitting down, you’d fall flat on your face.

“I believe I can help you, but you have to be willing to do the work. I need total, focused commitment from you. Do you think you can do that?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said instantly. There wasn’t even a question. You wanted this more than breathing, more than eating. And that was saying something because you would happily drive far and wide for a good meal.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “Good. I’m giving you homework. I want you to spend the next week exploring your body. Nothing sexual. Spend time in your body and with your body. Touch yourself, but no masterbating. When you shower, acknowledge your body. When you lotion up, pay attention to every mole, every scar. This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body. I also want you to keep a journal. You won’t share it with me unless you want to, but this exercise is to get you in tune with your body. Rewire how you perceive sex and sexual completion. Does that sound doable?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment. He must not know the effect he had on those around him. He had to be completely clueless. Batshit fucking oblivious. The wreck he was having on your libido was absolutely insane.

Joking aside, you were taking this seriously. In just one session, Dr. Richmond managed to give you a tiny spark of hope. That maybe you weren’t a lost cause. You immediately tempered your thoughts. Hope hurt. You’d been hopeful so many times in the past, with different therapists, who seemed like they had a plan to help you.

Only for them to diagnose some other problem. You had anxiety, duh. You had depression, shocker. You had a laundry list of diagnoses from doctors and therapists who just thought you were obsessed with sex. That was like saying the sky was blue. Who wasn’t obsessed with sex? Besides asexual people.

“I’ll do it,” you said.

“Good,” he said. He went over your schedule, working out a time to see him once a week until you would eventually graduate to fewer sessions. That bummed you out. Not seeing his gorgeous face ever again? Could you fake another issue and continue seeing him?

Dr. Richmond dismissed you and you left his office feeling a smidgen lighter than when you entered. Maybe this would actually work out. Maybe.

Terry

Terry finished with his last client of the day and went over his notes, inputting his clearer thoughts into the patient portal on his laptop. When he ran across your file, he paused and opened it once more.

Your case fascinated him. He couldn’t stop pouring over your files, doctor’s notes, direct quotes. There had been plenty of therapists before him, all trying to help the beautiful woman who entered his office earlier in the afternoon.

He wasn’t immune to his patients. Some were beautiful and charming and all tried to flirt their way into his bed. He never crossed that line. Never. Yet…when you discussed your story, the rawness of it captivated him. He held onto your every word like you were a theater production right before his eyes.

He hardly took notes because he was so fascinated with the dichotomy of you. On the outside, you were a bit shy. Perhaps too self-aware which led you to shrink, hide who you really were. He got the sense that there was an entire universe wrapped up in your mind and he began asking deeper questions than he ever had on a first session.

The hour had gone by too fast for his tastes. He wanted to hear more. Learn more. Know more. He hated to admit it, he even got semi-erect as you told your tale. He was understandably disgusted and it wasn’t the first time; occupational hazard. But it was the first time he’d ever cursed his medical degree.

You were perfect. Absolutely perfect. When you admitted to being submissive, his dick even twitched. Ached. Why couldn’t he have met you somewhere else? Surely, fate hadn’t been so cruel as to put the perfect sub within reach and then ensure that he could never have you? Never touch you?

Describing your previous lovers actually made his chest boil. You had been subjected to ignorant men who wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. And they had you believing that you were the problem. It was laughable. It was maddening. It was cruel.

He frowned at your file. He had gone over it so many times in preparation for the session. He didn’t know what would walk through the door. A file this thick? He thought he’d have a sex-obsessed, delusional fiend on his hands that he’d have to contend with.

Your wish of cumming was almost cute. Terry sighed. He shouldn’t be thinking it was cute. If anything, he should be passing your case off to his colleague down the hall. Dr. Crawford was as capable as Terry was, their ideas often aligning in regards to treatment.

He preferred a holistic approach. Most problems could be resolved within a few months, once people began to shift their idea of sex and their role in it.

“Everything is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.” That was one of his favorite quotes, said so many times that no one truly knew where it originated.

It was a quote he often repeated to his patients at the right moment. When they were beginning to discover a part of themselves previously unexplored. He wondered how long it would take for your moment? That dawning realization.

He was only sad he couldn’t see it in real time. That moment when you let yourself feel. Let yourself relax and sink into that subspace you so desperately needed. Terry grunted and closed your file.

He was about to crack you open like an egg and watch a brand new woman emerge. He was about to hand you off to the first man who pretended to understand your needs. He took out his fresh notepad, every patient got one, and scribbled some more notes. He’d have to make sure you understood the difference between a real dom and a little boy playing dress up.

His eyes scanned across his earlier notes, little things he jotted down while you spoke. Areas you skipped over, areas you expanded on. They were only a sentence or two long, something to kickstart his memory. Because at the time, his eyes were focused on you. On your face, your voice, your mannerisms.

It was both a curse and a blessing to notice so much. See so much. Understand so much. But it worked when necessary. You deflected about your sexual partners, retreated when he tried to push further about how you reached these conclusions. What methods you tried.

Usually, Terry did a whole song and dance to ease patients into talking about sex. Sex was taboo until it was time to have it. Now everything was awkward, unbalanced, and led to too many instances of abuse.

But between your file and how skittish but determined you seemed, you didn’t need a song and dance. You needed someone to give you guideposts. You didn’t truly need therapists. You just needed a nudge in the right direction. A nudge to someone else.

Terry pursed his lips and looked at your name on the file. He had to be careful. If he wasn’t, you would end up being trouble in more ways than one.

He finished up the last of his notes and then scanned through for anything he might have missed. He wrote down what your homework assignment was. He hadn’t truly known where that came from.

Perhaps it was the look in your eyes. Perhaps it was the helpless, frantic twist to your mouth that had him going from zero to one hundred where you were concerned. But the more he described it, the lower your eyes went. The way your mouth slackened just a bit. As if you were caught in some picture in your mind that he couldn’t see.

Terry leaned away from his desk and looked outside of his window. The tinted glass showed the sun in the distance, sinking lower towards the horizon. A bird flew, twisting and turning with the hot currents it found.

He ought to do the right thing. There was no way to remain objective in this manner. Not when he was strangely drawn to you, drawn to your file, and drawn to the unique challenge it presented.

You could very well end up a case study in some medical textbook or journal, name changed, but the presentation exactly the same. He didn’t relish the thought of being the one to put you there. But your case could end up helping someone else. It was the way the world worked.

He only hoped that he had enough self-restraint to walk away if he found himself compromised. If he couldn’t reign in his personal tastes and habits to help you. If he found himself looking at your lips as you spoke, your smile as you made self-deprecating jokes, or the shy way you licked your lips.

“Shit.” He took his phone out of his bag and hit up his on again, off again submissive play partner, Tasia. Perhaps it’d been too long since he took care of his own needs. Perhaps what he needed was to release the pent up tension he carried around all the time.

How long had it been? He didn’t know. But even as he set up the details with Tasia, he couldn’t help wondering if you were following his directions to the letter.

I said don't judge me! LOL. Thank you for reading, truly.

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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l0ngschl0ngking · 2 years ago

Text

Work for it

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: Javier wants you. Plain and simple. You don’t fall for his charm so easily

warnings: as always SMUT (m!masturbation, semi-public handjob, vaginal fingering, oral - f!receiving, protected p in v, biting, spitting, hair pulling, praise kink), cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, fluff and soft!Javi - because I can’t help myself

word count: 17k (holy moly guacamole - I am so fucking sorry)

A/N: This took me literally five days to finish (longer than I anticipated). Writing and then editing, re-reading it over and over again. But I had so much fun writing these two together. I love them.

You will never forget the day you met the infamous Javier Peña.

It was the first day at your new job - a new beginning for you, let’s say. Moving to a new country whose language you hardly spoke, having to accommodate to the new pace of things. That didn’t mean it was a bad thing though - you needed the change. After living in a small town for nearly all of your life where everyone knew everything about you, you were pretty glad when they accepted you as a secretary for DEA office in Colombia. It was…different. The people, the lifestyle they led. Nonetheless, change was good for you - you needed it.

What you didn’t need - or at least you thought so at the beginning - was having a smooth talker, devilish charmer and so-called "ladies' man" ogle you right as you entered the DEA building. His eyes watched every measured step you took as you held your head high when passing by him - not giving him the time of a day. You could see from the corner of your eye that he licked his lips and smoothed his thumb along the bottom one, his eyes trailing your figure.

He watched your smooth legs move effortlessly - light as if you were a butterfly slowly floating in the air, even in your heels. He could definitely make your legs wobble if you would let him, he thought as he licked his lips. Your green work skirt fitted you like a damn glove, your white blouse flowy - made to look professional yet efficient for you to not cook alive in that god-forsaken Colombian heat - highlighting your sun-kissed skin. He felt like a dog that was shown a proper peace of meat after days of starving. Oh, and starved he was.

He almost broke his neck when you disappeared around the corner and Steve threw him an unimpressed look from behind the folder he was going through before he heard Javier roughly exhale. The blond-haired agent tossed the thick folder filled with documents on the desk and leaned back on the uncomfortable office chair as he watched his partner seemingly lost in thought - he could guess what thoughts were occupying his mind right then. He scoffed and that seemed to pull Javier out of his trance, his dark eyes narrowed as he looked at his partner.

“What?” he grumbled. Javier’s eyes were challenging as he bored them into Steve’s baby blues as if saying “just say what you want to say.”

One thing Javier hated about Steve - and there were a lot of things that he didn’t like about him but if he was to pinpoint one it would have to be this - was how he unseemingly loved to call out Javier on his so-called “bullshit”. Even though often it was his private life - which frankly was none of his business. He loved to criticize and not be criticized in return - that he and Peña had in common even if he neither one of them would ever admit that.

“Don’t even think about it, Peña.” Steve muttered as he held eye contact with Javier - neither of them ready to back down.

Seconds passed. Maybe a minute even.

Javier was the first one to break it off as he glanced behind his shoulder, a sly grin spreading across his lips. He liked to play dirty - and pissing off his partner seemed plenty dirty play enough for him. And if you’d give in - as he was sure you would - and Steve would hear the pretty little cries of Javier’s name falling out of your lips? That seemed like a sweet victory to the dark-haired agent.

One thing about Javier was that when someone tells him can’t or shoudln’t do something - you know he will do exactly that. He turned to Steve once more.

“I don’t know what are you talking about.” Steve squinted his eyes and sighed - knowing damn well Javier was already planning on how to charm you in his mind.

“You know what I am talking about, Javier.”

His grin spread wider - his fingers quickly drumming on the wooden desk he was leaning his hands against. It was an old thing - folders that Javier should get through by tonight sitting on top of it. He had better things to do now. Paperwork could wait. Your perfume lingered in the office when you passed by, calling him to you like a damn siren song.

“Just trying to be friendly here, Murphy. Not that you know anything about it.”

“We both know that your definition of ‘friendly’ when it comes to women means ‘I want to spread-“

Before he could finish his sentence Javier was already one long leg out of the office making his way toward where you were seated at your desk. You were concentrated - your brows furrowed and the rim of your reading glasses falling from the bridge of your nose. You were not from here - Javier could tell. He noticed the mug filled with coffee on your desk that had “best sister ever” written on it in a thick cursive, the letters red and next to it a big heart.

The temperature in the office was hot - too hot even for Javi that was used to the Texan heat back from Laredo. His blue shirt damp from the sweat that dribbled down his back, his torso, his neck. The material of the shirt stuck to him. That wouldn’t be the last thing that would stick to him today. He was sure of that.

It seemed you came prepared though - the small fan on your desk felt like heaven on earth against your sweaty skin. He watched one droplet roll down from the side of your temple, slowly down to your jaw, your neck, falling into the juncture of it and rolling down between the valley of your breasts. He would gladly lick it from your skin if you’d let him. He would do much more than that to you if you’d let him.

“Can I help you with something?” His eyes teared away from your cleavage and met your gaze - your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you put your reading glasses down, the papers you were reading before he came laid now on your desk. He quickly scanned your features and yeah, you were definitely someone who’d he like to spend his night with. Or lunch break, or-

He ignored your question as he looked at your nails - one of his hands coming to inspect it closer but before he could you pulled your hands away - folding them across your chest. “I like the color. Brings out the color of your eyes.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that - leaning against the leather chair you looked him up and down quickly before leaning back towards him. Your elbows were prepped on the wooden desk and he leaned closer as well -his eyes quickly dipping to your cleavage once again.

“Listen here-“ A pause followed.

“Javi.” He offered.

“Javi.” You repeated. His name falling out of your mouth - the accent not quite right but he did not mind one bit. He found it endearing in a way. “Listen here, Javi. I don’t know what you think is going to happen but whatever it is just forget about it. Your southern charm won’t work on me. Been there, done that.”

He pulled away - taken back by your quick rejection, his eyebrows furrowing just a little. The crease on his brows showing and he took a quick breath to retort something, his tongue slipping out to lick his lower lip.

“And what did you think I thought was going to happen, mariposa?” The old leather chair creaked beneath your weight as you moved back in it slightly. An amused smirk pulled at your lips as you ignored the nickname he gave you - which in all honesty you didn’t know what it meant. You’d ask him another time. It seemed that you would be seeing this “Javi” a whole lot more than you thought.

You leaned closer to him and he did the same - as if the two of you were pulled by some magnetic force toward one another. It got hotter once his nose almost touched yours, his fingers with neatly trimmed nails gripping the edge of your desk. You slowly raised from your seat. You ignored it all - the way his eyes bored into yours, how you felt as if molten lava was in the pit of your stomach, how your hands clenched at your sides.

He smelled like cigarettes and coffee, and some kind of expensive cologne. The smell of him made your nose and insides burn - something about his presence made you feel like every cell in your body was on fire. That’s how the DEA agent made women feel most of the time - you didn’t know that back then.

Your voice dropped an octave lower as you whispered. “I don’t think it would be appropriate to say what I think you thought in a public setting. Especially in a working place.” An amused chuckle fell out of his lips as you seated yourself. Mirth danced in his eyes as he replied:

“Good thing I am inappropriate most of the time, mariposa.” Javier Peña was a bold man. He knew that and most of the people that were acquainted with him knew that. But you didn’t know who he was and he expected that you would scoff - tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t.

You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your lips as you pretended to read the documents on your desk - your conversation ending with that.

He watched you for a few seconds, expecting that maybe you would say something smart back in return because you know - it seemed you had a smart mouth. He turned on his heels as he left you to do what you actually came here to do - work - and he should do the same.

Oh, and you were going to be fun, he thought. When he came back and sat behind his desk, he had this stupid boyish smirk planted on his face. Steve looked at him and then back at where you were supposed to be working - even though he couldn’t see you. And the blonde-haired agent thought that this meant no good.

Three years passed since your first encounter with Javier.

Three torturous years filled with you two dancing around each other - like two ships passing one another in the stillness of a night. You two became somewhat friends. Three years filled with flirting and bickering, stolen glances and going out on drinks.

Sometimes Steve joined the two of you - most of the time not. At first, he seemed to be glued to Javier’s hip - afraid that his partner would try another one of his many tricks on you. Oh, and he did.

His flirtatious nature came out on the surface anytime you were near him - though you did not crumble under his advances as Javier wished you would. Your knees didn’t buckle, your cheeks didn’t turn a darker shade of red, your eyes didn’t flutter when he was closer to you than it seemed proper. But after a while, both agents found out you weren’t even near to falling for the smooth talker that Javier was. The only thing you offered him was friendship - your presence and your laugh, your silly jokes and weird habits.

And he took it all - his flirtatious nature and comments remained but it seemed more friendly than not. And you did the same in return - your smart-ass comments about how his ass looked “good enough to bite in those tight jeans" kept him on his toes, his cheeks hurt with all of the genuine laughter you pulled out of somewhere deep in his chest.

So Steve started joining your outings outside of work less and less - you were an intelligent woman and he liked you. You wouldn’t do something stupid like sleep with Javier.

The thing was - you wanted to. After the stressful day at work, you wished you could have Javier here - in your crappy apartment that was assigned to you by the U.S. embassy. You knew his reputation, you knew that his needs were simply carnal - a basic transaction of pleasure and bodily fluids. He never wanted his lady friends to stay over - never wanted them to have any expectations of having something more with him.

You can still remember the vivid shock you felt when you banged on the door of your next-door neighbor who appeared to only come alive at night.

The walls were thin and you could hear every moan, groan, slap of skin against skin, every bang that the bedframe made when hitting the wall. At first, you tried to ignore it - you bought earplugs. Multiple pairs. None of them seemed to work and one night you had had enough when you were right there on the edge of sleep after a particularly rough day and then - a long drawn-out moan made you squeeze your eyes before you shot out of the bed. The robe you wrapped around yourself to look at least half decent flew dramatically behind you.

You didn’t knock at the door - you banged - irritated and tired but still, you chewed at your lip as you thought of how the fuck will you say in spanish that they should finally “shut the fuck up and let you sleep”. You could hear a loud bang and then curses thrown into the air before the door swung open and Javier was standing in them - Javier from the office, Javier that undressed you with his eyes every time you entered the same room as him - his eyes wild and angry before they landed on you. All of the fire in his eyes disappeared and a toothy grin replaced his scowl. He leaned one arm on the doorframe - his bicep flexing with the movement.

His hair was disheveled and he didn’t have any of his significant half-unbuttoned shirts on. His chest was broad, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his golden skin glowed in the low dim light in the hallway. The tight jeans he wore stuck to him like a second skin - he didn’t zip them in the hurry to get to the door. You could see the sparse hair leading from his belly button growing thicker the lower and lower you went - you must have gaped at him like a fish before you gulped.

He wasn’t any better though - his eyes dragged over the naked expanse of your skin and as his eyes trailed higher. He was sure you weren’t wearing anything underneath that flimsy robe. A peak of the soft flesh of your breast caught his attention as he absent-mindedly licked his lips, catching his tongue between his teeth - only a sliver of the pink flesh poking out of his mouth.

“Came to take me up on my offer, mariposa?” You wanted to wipe the self-assured cocky smile off his face.

He never really said the “offer” out loud but you knew what he had in mind. Now even more so. After a few weeks at the embassy, you heard rumors about Peña, about his reputation, about who he was. You tried to pay them no mind.

“No, Javier.” The way his name sounded falling out of your mouth was his absolute favorite thing. “Just keep it down, would you?”

You didn’t wait for his answer - turning on your heel and he watched your ass sway before you closed the door of your apartment.

He fucked the girl that was in his place harder than he ever fucked anyone in his life that night.

So that you knew what you were missing.

The way you glared at him the next day was definitely worth it.

But you also knew Javier - how he cared for those who were close to him, how the only thing he “ate” all day was coffee and so you had to almost shove any form of food into him - not that he minded - how his eyes crinkled when you cracked one of your stupid jokes that weren’t even that funny - he seemed to think otherwise.

So you were somewhat friends. You went out to drink away your thoughts, sorrows and feelings together. An unhealthy coping mechanism that you seemed to learn from Javi after the first year and a half you spent in Colombia.

You always went into that one filthy bar - quiet but with a sticky floor with not a lot of people around - somehow, Javier always found a girl that he would take home that night in it still. He was tall, broad, charming, he knew the way around with ladies - compliments forming and falling easily off his silver tongue. They seemed to be pulled towards him by his sheer presence in the room. He didn’t even have to try.

You hated the way your heart tightened in your chest whenever a pretty woman caught his attention - he always quickly stubbed his cigarette down with a quick apology that he’d be right back. His walk was confident and self-assured, his body language lose when he talked to them.

To make things worst he always had this soft look in his eyes when he asked if you were okay with him leaving. Oh, his brown eyes that always looked at you with such curiosity and interest. Those eyes made you feel like you were in another world. Looking into them - looking into those prettiest brown eyes, the eyes that you loved the most - made you feel like dying and feeling alive at once.

Even when some of them almost pulled his arm off as they tried to get him out and to wherever they would get more acquainted with one another, he still waited for your answer. Every time, you offered him the same tight-lipped smile and quick nod as you shooed him off. The imprint of his smile he always offered you in gratitude felt like a punch to the gut - as if he broke all of your ribs to get to your heart and squeezed until no blood remained in it after it stopped functioning completely.

But even if you wanted to give in - learn and feel his touch, find out if the girls were faking all of the moans and gasps or if he was really so skilled - you never dared to. Refusing to become another woman who would have to leave eventually and never look back. You wanted more than that. Because you knew Javier.

And you wanted all of him, not just a piece that he would offer and then rip it from you.

So you never acted upon the feelings you developed over the years - staying somewhat friends with the Texas man would have to be enough. Had to be.

Things changed after almost two and a half years. After he came late at night knocking on your apartment door and you sleepily opened it - the tiredness leaving your body as your eyes widened at his state. He was drunk - that was clear. He hiccuped and stumbled into your place when you opened your door wider.

There was no exchanging of words that night. He planted face-first onto your couch and fell asleep almost immediately - his soft snores filling the silent room. You draped your favorite light blanket around him that night - the one your sister gave you as a Christmas present. Javier always made fun of it. It was an ugly thing really - she said that it was compensation for an ugly sweater as she couldn’t find any. And yes, it was hideous - it looked like it just came from some dumpster - but you loved it nonetheless.

Something changed between the two of you the next morning. When you came into the living room he was still lounging on your small couch - his long legs dangling from the edge of it. You laughed as he groaned, his eyes tightly shut, one of his arms draped over his forehead. When he slowly sat up his head spun and he mumbled something about “never drinking again” - you laughed some more at that.

You didn’t ask why he drank so much - you knew it was because of something more serious than just simply wanting to get shit-faced. If he wanted to, he’d tell you. Eventually.

You passed him some painkillers for which he offered you a grateful smile - throwing his head back as he swallowed them. The only thing that could be heard in the room was the coffee machine as you stared at each other. He looked different in the morning - peaceful, soft. Things he didn’t want anyone to see.

You cleared your throat, saying that you will quickly hop in the shower while he can choose what are you two going to have for breakfast - the book you’ve written your favorite recipes in kept on the lowest shelf in the kitchen cabinet right above the stove. You were stocked with all sorts of ingredients as you like to cook a lot. He nodded as he watched you softly shut the door behind you.

The recipe book was old and rusty - the pages of it covered in smudges, the corners of them sometimes torn off. He wasn’t sure if it was yellow because it came in that color or if the was white before and it just yellowed over time. He flipped the pages quickly - honestly, he’d eat anything you’d cook as he often said you should have opened your own restaurant and not waste your time behind the desk. You always brushed these comments off with a small smile. A dried-up rose layed between the pages. He softly grabbed it and inspected it - his heart lurching into his throat when realization dawned on him. He gave you the rose. A long time ago.

Steve always bought Connie a bouquet of flowers every Friday -a habit he kept even after all the years spent with her. It was sweet, really. Romantic. You eyed the different flowers - a small flicker of yearning danced in your eyes. Javier noticed. Of course, he did. One day he came over to your desk, one of his hands behind his back and you threw him a curious look before he brought the single white-petalled rose in front of your face. The big grin you gave him and the quiet “thank you, Javi. I love it” made his entire week.

So he didnn’t know how long he had been standing there - the tip of his fingers delicately brushing over the dried-up white petals until you called his name, coming over to him.

“You kept it.” You threw him a confused look, your eyes widened when he backed you up against the kitchen counter - the small of your back hitting the edge of it. He caged you in, his hand coming to lay on the counter next to your side, the other one showing you the rose and you gulped.

“Yeah, I kept it.” You whisper and something in his chest shifted back then, his eyes softening. You held your breath when his chest brushed up against yours, his nose almost bumping with yours. You could see every freckle on his skin, his long eyelashes, the curve of his nose. Your lips nearly touching.

And then the phone rang and he closed his eyes in irritation, taking a deep steadying breath. He moved away from you and you slipped away from him quickly- your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You picked it up with shaking hands, looking over at Javier who put the rose back into its place.

“Hey, Steve. Yeah-yeah, I’ll be there in ten. Yeah, I will go over to Javi’s to kick him out of bed. See you.”

His jaw ticked when you hung up. He was going to kill Murphy.

He stopped seeing every and each of his lady friends after that day. If he wanted any information he’d meet them on neutral ground - sometimes offering to buy them a drink or two. But nothing more. He stopped picking up random girls at the bar too.

And somehow, he felt happy. Mind shockingly happy - like a kid that wished really hard for a present under the Christmas tree and got it. He cared for you - the realization hitting him in the back of the head like a fucking bullet. And you cared for him - took care of him, fed him and made him feel fucking alive and happy and thriving. You were the one that got drunk with him and never asked questions, and listened. You had to feel something if you kept the stupid rose after the years. Right?

But Javier overthinks things easily and just as easy as it was to imagine somehow a happy and safe future with you, it was just as easy to imagine scenarios - where in every one of them - he was the jackass who’d hurt you. And he couldn’t have that. No, no, no.

So he keeps his distance - still talks to you and keeps being friendly, but neither of you talks about the morning when you almost kissed. You were confused and hurt. He played with you but you couldn’t be angry at him. He never tried anything again after that on you. Even though this thing you two had between you kept simmering under the surface and he tried to ignore it. As have you.

But Javier is just a man - impulsive and quick to jump to conclusions. When he sees red? He acts. And right now he sees red as you talk to one of the other agents - he can hear your soft laugh and can see the way you grip the man’s arm as you laugh some more. What is even so funny? The muscle in his jaw ticks as he grips the edge of his desk tighter in his hold and Steve wants to laugh at his partner.

He takes pity on him and when he stands up he places one of his big hands on Javier’s shoulder which he wants to shrug away -his gaze lingering on you.

“You should ask her out, Peña.”

Javier almost breaks his neck with the speed he looks at Steve. Did he hit his head? Since when is he telling him what to do with women? Javier scoffs - an ugly twisted snarl adorns his lips. Like a wolf barring his teeth to its prey.

“Since when do you tell me what and what to not do when it comes to our lady co-workers?” Steve sighs and squeezes Javier’s shoulder tighter making his dark-haired partner look at him.

“We both know she isn’t just a co-worker to you, Peña.” He hisses at him, the grip on his shoulder loosening. “Now go ask her out before someone else will.”

And maybe it’s the first time in his life that Steve is actually right. He was fucking exhausted of playing this game of cat and mouse with you.

Javier’s legs act quick and his mind can’t seem to catch up with his actions before he is standing at your desk. When he arrives the other man bids you a quick goodbye before he scatters away under Javier’s intense gaze.

“Do you need something from me, Javi?” You offer him a small smile - so different from the first time you two met and he thinks: “yeah, you”.

His tongue sits heavy in his mouth and just now he finds out he actually doesn’t know how to do this. This dating thing. For fuck’s sake he hasn’t been on a date since Lorraine and he is getting old. Should he bring you flowers first? Should he ask you out with a note like in high school? Should he-

“Javi, you okay?”

Man up, Peña.

He scratches the back of his head before he blurts out:

“Go out with me.”

He says it so quickly that you are sure you heard him wrong but the tip of his ears are a darker shade of red and he stares at you expectantly. You gape at him like a fish - your mouth closing and opening but no sound comes out of it. He sighs and this time he says it slower, his dark eyes boring into yours as he reaches to grab your small hands in his.

“Mariposa, I’d like nothing more than if you’d go out with me. Like…on a date.” His palms are sweaty and he gulps seemingly nothing. He is nervous. It’s cute. That this big bad agent that chases narcos left and right is nervous about asking you out. You grin as you squeeze his fingers in yours.

“I don’t know, Javi. This seems so sudden and I am not sure if that’s the best idea. With us being colleagues and all.” You try to hide your grin as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Mariposa, I swear I will make it worth your while. Just give me a chance. Please? I will-“ You break when you see his pleading eyes.

“Javi, I was just kidding. I’d like to go out with you. You are a scaredy cat when it comes to these things, aren’t you?”

He offers you a sheepish smile, his eyes glowing.

“Kind of. So please, try to be patient with me, yeah?”

“Of course.” You throw him a reassuring smile. Yeah, he could do this. With you.

He looks around before he brings your hands towards his lips - kissing them and he grins against them when he sees how you blush.

“Tonight at eight sounds good?” He offers as he pulls away from you.

“Sound perfect, Texas.” His grin spreads wider, his cheeks hurt and his heart hammers in his chest.

He owes Steve.

For someone who dreamt about being asked out by Javier you are unprepared. You never expected that he would ever actually make a move on you - not counting the sexual ones. You can’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of your shift. You beam at Javier when passing by him to get home and he throws you a sultry wink - his knuckles resting on his desk as he looks through the documents. Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t quip anything as Javier watches you leave.

He had a date tonight. With you. Stating that he was nervous and giddy at the same time was an understatement. He felt a like a teenager expecting his first kiss. It felt strange and absolutely addicting at once.

When you arrive home you take a quick shower - Javier always said that you smelled like coconuts and one time you saw him secretly glancing into your bathroom to see what kind of shampoo were you using.

The water is scorching hot and it soothes your muscles and nerves. You scrub all the stress from your body and scurry into the bedroom when you are done - the droplets of water falling onto the floor as you don’t even bother to dry yourself off.

Your bedroom is a big space - the same as Javier’s and Steve’s and anyone who lives in the same apartment building as you, really. You open your closet which was built by Javi and Steve - both of them complaining “why the fuck would you need such a big closet if you live alone” and as you replied “because I like them big” Javier choked on seemingly nothing sending you a quick glare, his Adam’s apple bobbed and it seemed he started sweating even more after that.

You and Connie watched as they argued because, of course, neither of them needed the instructions. Glass of wine in your hands.

It was a pretty closet - cheap as someone bought it and it was too big to fit into their living space and they wanted to get rid of it. Made from mahogany wood, the doors of it had two birds on each side carved in it. Vintage and fitting into your bedroom - you even got a carpet with it for free, the one you were currently standing on.

As you pondered on what to wear you suddenly realized you didn’t know where was Javier taking you. Dancing? On a dinner? To a bar just for drinks? After a while of just checking through your wardrobe you decided to wear a sundress - it was too hot, even at night, to wear anything else, to be honest. It was a light green color - patterned with white flowers and the seam of it reached just below your knees. Backless with long sleeves. Cheeky but modest. Your mouth quirked upwards as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

A knock echoes through the apartment and you look at the watch in the kitchen when coming to answer the door -precisely seven. When you open the door your breath hitches.

Javier stands there with a bouquet of white roses - his face hidden behind them. He has his leather jacket on, his signature tight jeans on but you’ve never seen the pink shirt on him before. It suits him. He peaks at you through the flowers and his jaw sets - his eyes raking up and down your form, multiple times before he passes the roses to you.

“Thank you, they are beautiful, Javi.” You get an instant response, his hands now in his pockets.

“You are beautiful, mariposa.” His baritone raspy. He was used to you were pencil skirts, blouses, jeans and shirts when you went out. Never has he seen a dress on you even after three years. He prayed to all saints out there that you would wear only dresses from now on.

You flash him a grin before you quickly disappear inside to throw them into a vase. He has to clear his throat when he realizes that he can see the whole expanse of your back - the swell of your ass disappearing under the fabric but if the cut would be a little deeper he could definitely see that as well.

“Wear some comfortable shoes. I am gonna show you the beauty of Bogotá tonight.”

You link your arm with his as you softly shut the door.

You talk and laugh and jab at one another. The cool night air makes you shiver - you thought it would be a lot warmer than this. Javier drapes his jacket over you even as you fuss that he doesn’t have to.

You walk - it could be miles - but you don’t really pay it no mind as times fly by. You pass the few spots Javier wanted to show you - a pretty lake that reflected the moon shone under its light, looking like a silver liquid- a few daisies growing near it and you picked them, and after a while Javier even allowed you to put one behind his ear after you pleaded him. The spot where they served the best arepas in the city - Javier said so - and you had to agree as both of you munched on them, comfortable silence falling over the two of you.

It wasn’t awkward as you thought it might have been - you know a lot about each other but somehow you still find new things to talk about. You learned that he liked to paint when he was younger and enjoyed horseback riding with his pops. That he was mama’s boy - his tone softening as he talked about her. You squeezed his hand, telling him it was okay if he didn’t want to talk about it. But he did. Somehow, he wanted you to know everything about him. You took everything he gave and never wanted more and he felt at peace when with you. You found out that he grew up on a ranch and that he was a dog lover - he had a border collie that followed him everywhere when he did his morning chores - feeding the chickens and such.

The final spot of the day’s date was a pretty place with a view from which you could see the whole Bogotá, surrounded by trees and his truck parked there

Both of you lean against the hood - you pull his jacket around you tighter. It smells like him and you realize that after the years you don’t mind the smell of cigarettes. It’s soft and warm and it feels entirely like him.

“So, will you ever tell me about your little Texas boyfriend?” He cuts off the silence with his question and you cock your head to the side.

“Since when do you know I had Texas boyfriend?” He shrugs his shoulders as he brings the cigarette to his lips - blowing the smoke away from you.

“You told me the first time we’ve seen each other. You said that you will not fall for my Texas charm - “been there done that”. He quotes and you laugh breathily. He stubs the cigarette under his foot. The gravel under him crunches.

“You remember that?”

“I remember every little thing you say to me, mariposa.”

The air thickens with his confession as you look into his eyes. He is gorgeous under the dim moonlight. His hair blows in the soft wind. You reach to take the daisy from behind his ear and twist it between your fingers. The contact your skin makes with his when you reach behind his ear results in goosebumps erupting all over his body.

“I think a talk about ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends is more suited for a second date. Don’t you think?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“You want to go on a second date with me?” It surprises him - really. He expected…he actually doesn’t know what he expected but second date wasn’t it. He ignores the way his heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, don’t you?” Your eyes are hopeful and he doesn’t understand how you could think he wouldn’t want to go on another date with you.

He was smitten with you from the first time he laid his eyes on you. With your sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor, and how you love to call him out on his bullshit, how your nose wrinkles when you laugh and you throw your whole body forward - always needing to bang your hand against something, whether it was your thigh, table, his shoulder.

“I’d love to.” You grin and he mirrors it before you lean away from the hood as does he. It’s late and you are tired - even though you do not want this night to end. You yawn and Javier claps his hands together as he opens the door of the car you.

The car ride passes in comfortable silence as you keep sneaking glances when you think he isn’t looking.

You look at his sharp jawline and aquiline nose, his hand that grips the steering wheel - watching how he drums his long thick fingers against it and you lick your lips as you trail your eyes over the veins on the back of his hand. You take a sharp intake of breath as he places the other hand on your thigh after a while. You look at him but he doesn’t even glance at you, you can see how he becomes tense and when you don’t push his hand away he relaxes again, his thumb stroking idle circles on top of your covered flesh.

It passes quickly and before you know it you are outside the door of your apartment and he is pulling you closer by the small of your back. You put a finger on his lips when it looks like he is ready to kiss you senseless and you giggle, grabbing him by the chin and you turn his head to the side.

“I don’t kiss and tell on the first date, Peña. You will have to work for it.” You whisper against the skin of his cheek and his grip on you loosens as he feels the ghost of your lips against his flesh before you kiss him under the hinge of his jaw. The kiss imprints into the core of his bones.

Before he can say or act you are already closing the door of your apartment - he can hear the giggles that leave your mouth behind them. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his hands ball into fists as he stares at your door.

Seconds pass. Minutes. Maybe hours. He isn’t sure as he seems to be glued to the spot outside of your door.

When he finally moves he closes the door behind him forcefully. He feels so fucking worked up. And you didn’t even touch him. What were you doing to him? For fuck’s sake.

He stumbles into his place as he tries to tear his jeans from him. He fumbles with the zipper and button of his jeans and falls onto the couch as he quickly tries to undress. The jeans are thrown somewhere behind him and he tugs at his cock a few times, hissing as he swipes his thumb across the sensitive head - a spurt of precum falling out of it. He tries to imagine your small hand around his cock. Your slender fingers gripping him and pumping him from all he has. He groans when he squeezes the base of him and he thinks of how you looked tonight.

All pretty and soft when he held your hand in his. His brows furrow when he thinks of how your skin heated up under his touch when he placed his hand on the small of your back. How your dress showed all of your curves and how you laughed - your nose wrinkling. His movements speed up, he concentrates on how you smelled and moved. He thinks how you wouldn’t be able to grip all of him in your small hand - would you try to put all of him in your mouth or would you just suck and lick the tip of him while you would pump the rest of him? The roughness of his own hand isn’t ideal and it is hard to imagine your softer one - his eyebrows furrowing even more so as he concentrates, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth.

And fuck, you care for him. You truly care for him. You listen - really listen- and let him talk your ear off. You never judge him. And that’s why he is so fucking attracted to you. Because Javier just wants someone who will care for him and provide him with not only physical but also psychical comfort. And you are that someone.

He groans, his head thrown back as the pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach - twirling up the column of his spine. He is not quiet and his eyes roll into the back of his head when he hears the squelching sound of his hand stroking his cock - pretending that it was your pussy making the noise while riding him. He smears the precum around his cock - the glide over the hard hot flesh easier. He thinks about how would you sound screaming his name and a needs curls in his belly - primal and hungry. He finds a steadier and firmer pace and the muscle on his forearm and bicep flex with each stroke.

He is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he feels he is so fucking close - so close - his eyes tightly shut. The pleasure builds and builds - liquid warm and full of aching desire for you growing with each slick movement of his wrist. Long smooth strokes are deliberately made, his thumb running over the head, his grasp tightening on the base of his aching cock. His muscular thighs lift off the sofa, the muscles underneath his softer belly pull tighter with each second as he fucks up into his fist. His feet are firmly planted on the couch and he pretends you are there with him - on top of him, riding him as he pinches and explores, gropes and holds every inch of your body.

His balls pull tight and his cock twitches in his hand a few times before he is cumming with a string of spanish curses and your name falling out of his mouth. He keeps up the pace until he is too sensitive and he lets go of his slowly softening cock - his hand sticky with his own release as is his shirt. The back of his head collides with the soft cushions and he opens his eyes to look at the ceiling. Bringing his hand in front of his face, he watches how his spend dribbles down his wrist and his forearm - if you were here he’d tell you to lick him clean. He waits before his breathing calms down and then he slowly sits up.

And fuck, he was in big trouble. What were you doing to him?

The second date comes around not even a week later - flirtatious looks and fleeting touches scattered throughout the week when you pass each other at work. Steve rolls his eyes at the two of you but he is honestly happy for you and for Javier too. You are his friend and after your first date Steve cornered his partner, jabbing his finger into Javier’s chest as he told him to “not fuck this up”.

This caused Javier to become defensive, saying he would never dare to even try - but under no prying eyes he was so fucking afraid. Because he was him - he left his bride at the altar for fuck’s sake and the worst thing was he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to meet you.

And he never ever felt this way with Lorraine - how his heart seemed to start beating faster anytime you touched him or how it skipped a beat when he heard your laugh. How his skin felt like it was on fire under your touch, how all of his blood traveled down to his cock each night he thought of you. He felt fucking dirty and wrong for that - but alas he didn’t fuck anyone for over half a year and he was touch-deprived, your soft touch lingering in the back of his mind as he stroked himself.

He was terrified he would fuck something up sooner or later. And you noticed it - how he seemed lost in his thoughts anytime he spend time with you, your touch on his hand pulling him back into reality. You caressed his knuckles and he smiled - a real genuine smile on his lips.

“What’s bothering you? You know you can tell me, Javi. That’s if you want to, of course.” The way you offered him a soft smile made him want to kiss you right there and then.

Because yeah, he knew he could tell you anything. You wouldn’t look at him weirdly, you wouldn’t judge him. You would sit and listen and after he’d be done talking, you would tell him your honest opinion. He rubbed your fingers that were on the back of his palm with his other hand.

“I-I am afraid, mariposa. I am afraid I will fuck this up and you will never want to talk to me again. And that would break me.” He whispered, the words meant to be heard for your ears only and your heart jumped when you saw the concern in his eyes before he looked anywhere but into your eyes. Because in reality Javier Peña was a big softie deep in his core and it was sweet how he tiptoed around this thing you had between the two of you - afraid that he would break it. Break you.

“Javi.” You said in a serious tone and he met your gaze, his breath hitching when he saw how serious you looked at him, your eyes filled with adoration. For him. “We are both adults. And it is most likely one of us will fuck something up down the road. But we will try to repair whatever damage will be made. That’s how relationships work.” You shrugged your shoulders, pulling your hands away from his as one of your colleagues passed by.

He grinned. You called it a relationship. He thought it would make him scared - putting labels on whatever was going on between you. That maybe he would run for the hills because he never wanted anything serious after Lorraine. Afraid of commitment. Afraid of his own feelings. But he didn’t. He felt fucking happy. You two were at the beginning of your relationship.

“You are right, mariposa.” He laughed as you quipped “as I always am.” “I will pick you up tonight. At eight?”

“Sound like a date, Peña. Where are you taking me this time?” He grinned, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Wear another dress tonight. You looked beautiful the last time.”

“You like me in a dress, Javi?” You fluttered your eyelashes innocently at him and he felt a growl building in the back of his throat as he leaned closer to you.

“You have no idea how much. Makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He left with that and as he turned around he had to hide the teasing smile on his lips as he saw your shocked expression.

Oh, but you had an idea how much. After all the walls of your apartment were thin.

You decide to wear one of your more revealing dresses - the one in a dark shade of red, tight around your body with thin straps that held it in place, the seam of it just reaching just above your knees. It makes your breasts look absolutely wonderful. A touch of red lipstick completes the look.

A knock echoes through your place and again - he is right on time. When you open the door a single rose in his hands greets you but you don’t care about that right now as you admire his look. He swapped the tight jeans - which you loved - for looser black dress pants which highlighted his narrow waist. He has a nice pair of black shiny dress boots on, his black shirt more loose than the ones he wore for work - of course, a few of the top buttons of it unbuttoned. He looked good enough to eat and you have the urge to lick the few salty droplets of sweat rolling down his torso.

He eyes your figure shamelessly and almost chokes when he sees the dress you are wearing. It hugs you in all the right places and his fingers itch to touch you, your fingers brushing against his as you take the rose from him making a surge of electricity pass through his nerves. The red lipstick you are wearing just compliments your look. You look like sin itself. And he makes it his mission that tonight the red lipstick will be smeared all over him. He clears his throat as he offers you a quiet “You look absolutely gorgeous, mariposa” and you thank him, his hand on the small of your back - as his urge to touch you wins over him. He leads you towards his car, his eyes trailing to your ass.

“So, where are we going tonight?” You ask when you are sitting in the passenger seat and he grins, his hand automatically falling on your thigh, the tip of his fingers dancing across your sensitive skin.

“You like dancing?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Depends. When I have a good dance partner then yes.” You challenge and his head falls back as he laughs bitterly - as if offended. The grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t worry. I know how to move my hips, mariposa.” He winks as he starts the engine.

The drive is spent in you two talking about your past relationships as you promised him on your last date. You tell him about your Texas boyfriend - your college sweetheart. He was a sweet boy, a little shy and he didn’t like to engage much in social events. You were the one who approached him first when you saw him looking at you at all times during one of the classes you had together. He stammered and blushed when you asked him out but agreed and he loosened up after a few months of you two dating - his Texan charm slipping on the surface. You tell him about how he smooth talked you into visiting his uncle who had a ranch. He took you horseback riding. You do leave out all of the spicy details though. Javier’s brows furrow in confusion - it seemed like you were totally in love with each other from your talking, so he didn’t understand why you broke up. A quick “ah” follows when you explain that he fell out of love with you. You stayed friends but eventually, both of you parted going your separate ways. Back then you were still bitter about your break up even if it wasn’t his fault. Things like those happens. But you know, love blinded you and the rage you felt sat heavy in your heart for a long time.

And in return, Javier tells you about his girlfriends and to your surprise there weren’t many. A few flings here and there - kissing behind back of his house, exploring but neber doing anything more - before he met Lorraine during high school. His high school sweetheart. They both were the talk of the town when they announced they were getting married. The sweet, handsome and hard-working Peña boy and the perfect Lorraine who seemed to be adored by everyone. She was the one who taught him a lot of tricks when it came to sex. You listen as he tells you about how he left her at the altar - it didn’t feel right and Colombia felt like a place where he could make some kind of change. Not that he made any after the years spent here. You scold him with a quick “hey”, your hand shooting to grab his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Don’t bring yourself down, Javi. You are a great agent and an even greater man. Even if you don’t believe so.” He throws you a crooked smile, his pulse going from zero to a hundred because of the way you look at him. As if he was worth looking at. He brings his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

“So, tell me; why did you give me the nickname ´mariposa’?” you ask and the mood car shifts to playful and loose again.

He can vividly remember how you were so bothered that you didn’t know what it meant and asked him about it constantly. He teased you and each time you asked - because you could tell he wasn’t telling the truth - he told you something different. It drove you mad, you wanted to ask Steve but didn’t engage with him back then as much and you felt awkward asking some random person working in DEA. He lived for the way you squinted your eyes at him and jabbed into his chest with your nimble index finger as he didn’t even budge. Eventually, he gave in and told you the true meaning of it - and as of right now, you asked him why. He never answered you.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” He asks cheekily and you huff, your hand coming to draw circles on the back of his hand.

“It doesn’t bother me per se. I just want to know why do you call me “butterfly”? His fingers drum against the steering wheel as he parks outside of a club. It was a big building and the outside of it seemed new - a big neon sign shone in the dead of the night to grab the attention of passersbys. The outside of it was made out of black bricks, and the door was made out of glass.

He turns his torso towards you - his knee bumping with the driving console while doing so. And he really does look incredible tonight - the dress pants fit as if they were made just for him and you can see the visible bulge between his legs. You look away quickly to look into his eyes but you are pretty sure he caught you staring as he shifts in his seat again.

“You remember the first time we met?” He asks and you nod - it’s hard to forget.

“Yeah, I wanted to slap you across your stupidly handsome face for how you looked at me. As if I was a piece of meat.” He laughs, his tongue poking out to lick the seam of his lips.

“Well, you looked like a butterfly - moving past me as if I didn’t even exist, your movements so effortless in those god-forsaken high heels you wear to work. By the way, I still can’t grasp how you can walk in those. Anyways. You had this green pencil skirt on and it just seemed suitable, even more so after I found out you really do wear crazy and bright colored combinations of clothing.”

They made fun of you for that - all in a good and light-hearted manner though. Not really wanting to upset you. You still remember how Javier smacked Steve behind the head when you wore a bright pink blouse with the said green pencil skirt and the blonde asked you if you were going to masquerade. When Javier saw how your jaw set and your eyebrows pulled together in silent rage he almost beat up Steve. He came to your desk later that day and told you to ignore Steve, his words of “don’t mind Murphy, he’s an idiot. You look nice, mariposa” ringing in your ears for the rest of the day.

You nod and have to agree that indeed - the nickname does suit you. He grins at that and takes you by the hand when you both get out of the car, dragging you towards the entrance of the club.

The first thing you notice is that it’s super noisy in there - people cheering, music blasting. The dance floor is a big space and even with all the people on it there are still spots where you could squeeze in with Javier if you wanted to dance. The bar is opposite the dance floor - long and more than one barman is working there, the bottles of liquor shine under the lighting that is reflected from the disco ball that lies above the dance floor. The floor isn’t sticky from all of the sweet alcohol as is the bar you frequently visit with Javier. The booths are small but cozy - a maximum of four people could squeeze in there and Javier drags you towards the empty one that is further in the back with not a lot of people there. When you sit he whispers if you’d like something to drink and you shake your head before you leave your coat on the leather seat. This time you are dragging him on the dance floor.

His hands find your hips almost immediately as the music speeds up - flowing through your veins, your ears ringing as you concentrate on the way his hips drag against yours as you grind against him.

Javier’s brain stops working - he pulls you closer to him, his hands drag across your exposed thighs higher and higher, his hands stopping just under your breasts and his touch tickles as his fingertips hover above your ribcage. He is close -you can feel his breath on the back of your neck and his mustache scrape you there, his hands gliding and groping. His hips move alongside yours and yes - he didn’t lie when he said he knew how to move his hips.

You feel him everywhere but nowhere at once - you want more and you moan when he tests the waters and one of his hands brushes against your collarbone, slowly moving the hair away from the slope when your shoulder and neck meet and he places a tentative kiss there. The ghost of his lips is so feather-light you almost don’t feel it and his other hand squeezes your hip tighter when you brush against his clothed cock that strains behind the fabric. You can feel the scrape of his mustache on your skin and feel the tip of his tongue slowly slip out from his mouth - tasting the salty taste of your skin, his blunt nails digging into your waist when you lean against him, his hand snaking to hold you in place.

You are drunk but not from alcohol - neither of you drank anything tonight. But from the sheer presence of him as you don’t even seem to dance but only explore each other. Your hands tangle in his hair and he hums in pleasure when you tug on one particular suck he gives to your skin. It will leave a nasty purple bruise tomorrow but he doesn’t care - his eyes darkening when he sees the imprint of him on your skin. You move and sway, and grind and Javier follows your lead, never once taking more than you give him. His touch makes your skin burn with primal desire for him as they skate under the seam of your dress but as quick as they go there, that quick they leave too. He is teasing you and he grins when he feels the vibration of your whine against his mouth.

He inhales your scent and his head spins - you smell like coconut and somehow…him. Sweet and tempting and he has the urge to drag you towards to small bathroom in the corner of the room. Show you how good with his hand and other parts of his body he can be, show you what you were missing all these years. And see what he was missing for all these years.

You stay on the dance floor for a while longer before you lean your head against his shoulder, your lips brushing the underside of his jaw as you whisper in his ear that you want something to drink and he nods absent-mindedly, leading you back to your booth. His hands now dip lower, smoothing his big palm over your ass lightly - the way you almost draped yourself all over him on the dance floor making him bolder. You throw him a sultry smile when he says he will be right back and he does - not even five minutes pass before he is back with two glasses of alcohol and you quirk an eyebrow at him as you see the long line near the bar.

“Hope you like gin and tonic. Whiskey on ice is getting old. Wanted us to try something new.” You thank him as he passes you your drink, your lips catching the straw and you move closer to him - his hands resting on the back of the booth around your shoulders. He splays his legs wider and you sneak quick glance at him and see the small grin - he is doing this on purpose.

Game on, Peña.

You move even closer to him, your torso twisting as your tits brush up against his chest and his breath hitches when he feels your hand land on the inside of his thigh - too close where he was getting hard. It seemed that was too easy when it comes to you. He eyes your cleavage, his eyes turning darker, his pupils blown wide as you take the drink from his hand and place it on the table, placing butterfly kisses on his neck. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands - one of them digging into the leather seat, the other stroking the base of your spine. You inch your hand higher and he should really pull it away but he doesn’t have the strength in him to do that - his throat closing on its own accord.

Your fingers quickly scatter to work on his zipper and his hand that was gripping the leather seat closes around your wrist - his lust-filled eyes looking into yours frantically. You smile at him, and he isn’t holding your wrist tight, so you slowly move his hand away, his breath speeding up when you unzip his pants and your fingers brush along his course hair that grows down his belly button. You bunch the material of his shirt and move it over his belly, he slides lower into the seat as you kiss him near the lobe of his ear.

“Want to take care of you. You okay with that, baby?” He almost whimpers at the new nickname for him that falls out of your lips. You grin against his skin, your tongue licking the hinge of his jaw and he closes his eyes when your hand snakes painfully slow towards his weeping cock - the tip of him an ugly red color, precum leaking out of it and he throbs in your hand when you take him out of his pants. He hisses, his eyes shoot open when he feels a dribble of slick rolls down the underside of him - you spat on him. And fuck, if that doesn’t make him even harder.

He is hot and hard and fucking big in your hands. You cannot see much of him in the dim light but you can feel it. He sits heavy in your palm. His hot breath fans over the front of your neck, his nose trailing over your collar bones.

“I heard you jerking off to imagines of me. The walls are thin. Did you forget, Javi? Hm?” His eyes wildly look around to see if anybody is looking your way but people are minding their own business. You heard him. You heard him every time and it makes a desire shoot down his spine knowing you listened to him.

The first swipe of your soft hand against him knocks the breath out of his lungs and you squeeze him tighter around the base when he doesn’t answer you.

“Fuck, mariposa. I couldn’t help but to jerk at the thought of you.” You smile - seemingly pleased with his answer and your thumb swipes along his tip, his hips jerking forward at the contact and you tut at him - your other hand pressures his hips to move down again. He whines, sweat rolls down the side of his temple and you lick it - his eyes roll into the back of his head, your hand moving with slow firm strokes. Just as he likes it. If he wasn’t so touch-deprived and seemingly in heaven he would have at least so much decency to touch you too. But he is lost in the feel of your hand against his, the coil in his belly tightening with each glide of your hand down his cock.

The music is loud - too loud - but the only thing he can hear is the squelch of his cock in your hand. It rings in his ears and you keep up your pace - your lips never faltering as you keep assaulting his neck and the thought of you leaving hickeys on him, marking him as yours brings him closer to his release. You mouth at the vein on his neck, feelings his pulse underneath your lips and you softly bite him there - the hand that was stroking your spine digs into the space between your shoulder blades.

The muscles in his thighs flex as he chases the touch of your hand - slowly fucking up into your hand and he feels the liquid warm need to just let go seeping into his whole being, his brows furrowing. You thumb at his head and squeeze him tighter at the base, your other hand moving to play with his balls and he chokes when he feels the feather-light touch. He opens his eyes which are hooded and he wants to look at you when you make him cum - the material of his pants is soft when your hand moves up and down. It only takes a few strokes before he warns you that he is going to cum and his fists fly to bang against the table - the alcohol on it spilling as you take him in your mouth. The wet warm feel of your mouth mixed with your tongue circling the tip of his cock has him cumming in seconds and he paints the inside of your throat with his spend. He violently twitches in you - the salty taste of him hitting your taste buds. You pull off him after he softens in your mouth and you tug him back into his pants.

“We don’t want you to make a mess. Do we now?” He doesn’t answer you, his eyes wild as he looks at you before he is bringing you towards his lips by the back of your neck - his fingers tangling into your hair.

He never imagined you would kiss under these circumstances - and he imagined kissing you a lot. It never was after you’d practically sucked his soul out. He isn’t complaining though. He can taste his release on your tongue and he deepens the kiss, wanting to swallow you whole. His other hand keeps your mouth open as it rests on the hinge of your jaw - his thumb slowly stroking your skin there. He feels desperate. Desperate to feel you. To have you. To be with you. And he tries to pour everything he feels into the kiss.

He hopes you understand.

When you part away you throw him the cutest smile -as if you just didn’t jerk him off under the table of a packed club - and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. He feels happy - that is how he always feels with you. And he wants to feel like that all damn time. When he is with you he doesn’t think about narcos or Pablo fucking Escobar and his inner demons don’t crawl on the surface of his fucked up mind.

He kisses you again. This time the kiss is softer, and not as desperate. Languid pass of tongue against tongue. As if the two of you had all the time in the world.

He doesn’t drink any more alcohol that night. Afraid that the taste of you would wash out from his tongue.

He watches you all the damn time the next day at work. The images of you last night flash through his mind. How your lips felt against his, the pass of your tongue against his cock, the soft touch of yours. He craves more, wants more, needs more.

He was shook when you finally arrived at your apartment complex and he kissed you breathless - his thigh coming between your legs as you slowly grinded on him, your fingers brushing against the smooth material of his shirt before you pulled away and bid him good night. Once again, he stood outside your door like an idiot.

He wants to return the favor. So he waits and waits on the right moment so he can pull you aside - show you that you were not the only one who could bring toe-curling pleasure to someone. He grins when he sees you enter the file room and he looks around - Steve seemingly busy with reading reports as he scoffs angrily - before he slides away. Closing the door behind him swiftly but softly.

You first hear the soft click of the door and then you feel big hands splaying over the expanse of your hips, mustache scraping over the skin on the side of your neck as he looks at what are you holding in your hands. The file is pink and thick and he takes it from you and places it in its rightful place - or at least where he thinks it was before - and you close your eyes, your muscles relaxing under his touch. You’ve seen how he looked at you today and for once, you were the one who gave him a show yesterday - being as loud as possible so he could hear. He almost lost his mind, almost knocked at your door.

He will show you that his fingers are better than any of your toys.

“What do you think you are doing?” There’s no seriousness behind your voice - he can pick up on the small smile behind it and he grins against your neck, softly pecking you there before his hands move lower, bunching the material of your skirt higher. He can hear the way your breath hitches and he grins - his tongue lapping at your pulse point, his finger inching closer and closer to your core before he turns you around. He slowly sinks down on his knees and oh my fucking god, Javier Peña is on his fucking knees for you. Looking up at you as if you were some kind of goddess and he was just a mere mortal ready to serve all of your needs. And he was ready to serve all of your needs. Your back collides with the bunch of files-filled shelves and the wood of it digs into you uncomfortably but you can’t seem to give a shit right now.

“I think you know what I am doing, mariposa. Did you think of me yesterday, hm? Did you think about how dirty of a girl you were? Jerking me under that table where anyone could see?” You moan when his blunt nails dig into the roundness of your ass as he tries to find the zipper of your skirt in the back. His gaze comes to watch your reactions as he slowly pulls the piece of clothing down your hips and bare legs as it catches on your heels and he helps you out of it. You squeal when he puts both of your thighs on the broadness of his shoulders and his head moves forward as he smells your arousal through the skimpy fabric of your panties.

It takes you a while to answer, your head spinning with the image you now have in front of you - Javier’s head between your thighs which rest on his shoulders, his wild hair in which you placed your hands in; tangling your fingers in it, how his long lashes flutter against the apple of his cheeks, his fingers digging into the soft flesh on your thighs - trying to imprint himself there. You can see the expanse of his neck and the hickeys you left the previous night - all purple and nasty looking but he doesn’t try to hide them, wearing them proudly.

“Yes, I thought about your big fat cock in my hand and how you seemed to enjoy yourself.” You tease and a sound between growl and a snarl forms in the back of his throat. What a samrt mouth you have - not for long though. One of his hands moves closer to your core and he kisses the inside of your left thigh first - his hand patting and mapping the trail of saliva he leaves with his tongue. Paying the same amount of attention to the other one as well. He worships you and takes his time - if he could stay like this forever, he would. His knees hurt under the weight of you as he kneels on the hard tiled floor but he ignores it.

You feel like you are in another world. Your breath ragged, your chest constricting as he looks at you through his eyelashes, his mustache burning your flesh in the most delicious way. You thought that maybe - just maybe - all the girls with Javier were just faking it. That his reputation was built on a bunch of fake moans and well-learned constricting of their inner muscles. But oh, how wrong you were. If he was at least half as attentive with them as he was with you right now, you had no doubt they were definitely not faking it.

“Wanna know a secret, mariposa?” You want him to just shut up and make you cum - to stop teasing you but you nod nonetheless, pathetically quickly.

“You remember when I came to you drunk? When I found the rose in your cookbook the next morning?” He murmurs as he draws patterns with his tongue against your thigh and again, you nod. How could you forget? You were so sure he was going to kiss you back then. Your lips almost touching but then Steve had to call. “I was so fucking drunk because I fucked a girl that night. She looked a lot like you and I pretended, just for a moment, that she was you. And then I went to see you and tell you that I wanted you. But this right here?” He nips at your thigh - his teeth leaving their mark behind. “Your pretty little sounds and pleas, and this pussy that is so wet for me?” He growls the last words. “This is better than any imagination I ever had. Fuck, you are so fucking perfect, mariposa.”

And his confession shouldn’t make your gut twist and fill with butterflies. It shouldn’t even surpsirise you. Not really. Because he tried his moves on you throughout the years. Multiple times. But hearing it from his mouth? That he wanted you so much that he pretended someone else was you? It makes a surge of possessiveness wash over you. He was yours all those years ago. As is he yours now, his head between your legs.

One of his hands snakes under your bum, the other trailing towards your mouth as he softly orders you to “open up” and you do - you would do anything he’d tell you right now. Two of his thick fingers work their way inside your mouth and you suck them in - moaning as he softly wiggles them before he pulls them out and in. And again, again, and again. Until you are gagging with how deep he seems to rach with them in your throat - your teeth grazing along his knuckles and he smiles; a twisted smile as if he was in pain, his nostrils flare before he removes them from your slicked mouth and shows you what a mess you made of them. Your eyes shine with lust and want and need as he drags them to your bottom lip. And then he removes them - pushes you even more towards the shelves so you won’t fall and his hand that was holding your ass moves to pull your panties to the side.

He moans at the sight of your slicked folds. His nose bumps with your clit before he inhales you all in. If he could, he’d touch himself. The image in front of him makes his cock jump in his tight jeans but this is about you. He wants to make you feel good and ruin you for any other man that would even dare to try and touch you. Because you were his - he knew it even if you never said so. As he is yours. You own him. Body, mind and soul and the thought of it hits him hard somewhere deep in his chest. He wants this. He wants people to hear and know that he is the one making you feel good - pissing off Steve would be just a cherry on top.

You plead his name - a string of “Javi please” falling out of your lips. He smiles - posessive and dark because he hasn’t even touched you yet and here you are; begging for him. All pliant and soft, and ready to take whatever he gives.

The first drag of his fingers inside of you makes you throw your head back and it collides with the wooden shelf - but you don’t feel the pain. You only feel the thickness and roughness of his fingers inside of you. His mustache burns your skin as he nuzzles your inner thigh as he watches you - his eyes dark and pupils blown back wide. He is enjoying this as much as you - you realize ,when a particular harsh thrust of his fingers makes you squeeze him hard and he moans even louder than you. It seems like he is doing it on purpose and it sends a thrill down your spine - if someone caught you here. He didn’t even lock the door.

His fingers work their way inside you - deeper and deeper, working up, up until he finds the spongy inside you. You squelch around his fingers and you beg for more. You are close, you can feel the pleasure build inside your body and when you are right on edge he stops. A whine escapes your lips as you open your eyes at him and growl in frustration. He grins and while he holds your gaze his mouth inches closer to your gaping cunt. He spits on your clit then and your eyes widen before a drawn-out moan falls out of your lips. He watches as his saliva drips down and he catches it - coating his fingers in it before he brings them into your mouth again.

You bite his fingers, the imprint of your teeth leaving its mark behind and tug at his hair when you feel the first slide of his tongue against your pussy. He moans under your harsh touch - his fingers pulling themselves deeper into your mouth and you feel the first set of tears make their way out of your eyes. It feels too good as Javier laps at you as a man starved - the vibrations of his moans making your thighs twitch.

He eats you out as if your pussy was his favorite meal - and it definitely is. The tangy taste of you hits his taste buds and he works the pink muscle into your gaping cunt - licking and exploring your walls. Javier never really was a fan of going down on someone. But with you? With the way, your breath hitches and you moan his name, how your fingers tangle in his hair and your Adam’s apple bobs with each pass of his tongue? He would keep doing this forever. And ever. He learns quickly what you like and what you don’t as he tests the waters. He is a quick learner and to your surprise - definitely a giver when it comes to sex.

He laps st you as if his life depended on it - his fingers moving with each flick of his tongue and you cry out when he puts his plump lips onto your clit and languidly sucks at it. His tongue flicking against it.

“Yeah, such a good girl. Come on, cum for me, mariposa.” He urges and one look at his state - his slack opened jaw, his ruffled hair, his hooded eyes that watch you with such an intensity you feel it in the pit of your very own being and you are a goner.

The euphoric feeling of it finally snaps, making you trash and spasm and writhe under his touch. Your toes curl and he keeps working you through your orgasm - lapping at what you give him before you push his head away forcefully as he tries to protest and give your sensitive clit a few more soft licks.

When you stand up on shaky legs he is still on his knees - his hand snaking behind the back of your thighs to hold your ass. He looks breathtaking like this - his mustache and chin covered in your release, his eyes hooded and he seems sedated, proud of himself.

You bring him to you by the collar of his shirt and he moans into the kiss you give him - all teeth and tongue, quick and he tries to deepen the kiss before you are pulling away. The taste of your own release sitting on top of your tongue and he grins when you start searching for your skirt - his eyes watching your ass as you bend down to put it back on you. The image of you in your high heels and panties will be kept hidden somewhere in the back of his mind from this time on.

When he passes by you to get out of the room first, he kisses you softly on the back of your neck before he whispers:

“Thank you for the breakfast, mariposa. It was delicious.” He skirts past you with a wink. Leaving a mess of piles on the ground behind him.

And you with a stupidly satisfied smile on your face and a hazy mind.

The third official date comes around three weeks later.

Work keeps you both busy but Javier always finds time for you. He comes to yours at night or sometimes well past midnight. Plopping next to you in bed, his hands snaking around your middle as he pulls you closer to him. And he swore he never slept better than when he slept by your side. So it becomes a habit.

It’s not a surprise to you that he seeks your touch at all times. One of Javier’s love languages is physical touch. Whether it’s just holding hands, smoothing his fingers down your spine or drawing circles on your knee under the table when you eat. Sometimes he comes sooner and you watch TV on the couch and read - to your surprise, Javier is a big fan of fantasy novels but he never actually has the time to read any so you read them to him when you two are already comfortably set in bed or lounge on the said couch- or play board games - and he has to cheat because there is no way he is so good at all of them.

Your nights spent together usually end up with you two making out - teeth clashing, lips latching onto each other, you grinding on his impressive clothed length. Sometimes it’s just a slow languid press of tongue against tongue in the early morning light when he is warm, putty and soft under your hands - the hardness of his walls that he builds up against him not yet coming on the surface. And Javier is insatiable but not only in the sense of sex. He craves the intimacy that you provide - your soft touch and sweet words as your fingers trace each and every scar, the press of your lips against them.

It’s dizzying the way you disarms him in every way. Making him feel so secure and whole as he opens up to you in ways he thought he never would have.

He feels desired as much as he desires you.

He drives you crazy - the close proximity of him makes you want to jump his bones on each and every surface in your place.

“Na-ah. I want to be a proper gentleman. So sex should come at least after the third date.” He said with a teasing smirk as he kissed your pouting lips and then ate you out on the kitchen counter.

It didn’t matter that you jerked him off on your second date. It didn’t matter that he ate you out the next day at work and returned the favor by giving you a mind-blowing orgasm. It didn’t matter that he fingered you from behind on your couch or that he fucked your throat while you laid on your bed, back splayed on the soft sheets. It didn’t matter that he had to eat you out at least once a day and it certainly didn’t matter if it was on the floor, kitchen counter, table, couch, your bed or a chair.

So it's an understatement that you cannot wait for your third date to finally happen. You are supposed to go to a nice restaurant - you’ve been there once or twice with other men that asked you on a date. But as Javi said, “I will make it a mind-blowing experience for you”. And you didn’t doubt it.

So you wait and wait, your eyes keep fleeting at the clock on your wall. An hour passes. Then two. He is never late. You are pacing around your kitchen - you tried to call Steve and called Javier multiple times. You knew they had a smaller op today, “don’t worry,” he said, “this should be an easy job,” he said. Easy job my ass. You were getting worried, your foot tapping against the tiles in your kitchen.

What if something happened to him? What if he was injured? What if he was bleeding out somewhere right now? What if he was-

A soft knock stops the train of your thoughts. Three knocks, the last one lighter than the other. Only one person knocks like that and you almost trip on your own feet as you hurry to open up the door. And he is standing there. Alive.

But he doesn’t look like your usual Javier. His clothes are drenched - the rain pouring outside heavy. It sticks to him - his clothes. His hair sticks to his forehead a few strands of it fall in front of his eyes. You see the difference in his posture, the haunted look in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, what to do with himself. He doesn’t even know why he came to you in this fucked up state. And he wants to leave - he doesn’t want you to see him like this. But before he can get a sound out of his mouth, the hushed and broken “sorry” stuck in his throat, before he can move his heavy limbs, you are pulling him in, softly dragging him on the couch. And as before - you don’t ask. You just wait. Wait if he says something, wait if he needs something, wait if he wants you with him right now.

The realization of it makes him want to rip open his chest and give you his scarred and broken heart. Because you own it. It’s yours, if you will have it.

His body acts quicker then his mind can catch up and he is pulling you in - his strong arms winding to hold you close to him. And you don’t protest, you just hug him back, your fingers dancing across the broad expanse of his back. He breathes you in - coconut, vanilla, mango. It grounds him. Knowing that you are here. With him. Next to him. For him.

“They-they killed them. I fucked up. Fuck-“ He hiccups. “I fucked up, mariposa.” His hold on you tightens as you shush. The slow beat of your heart drums against his ear.

You rock him back and forth and he feels like a little kid again. As if he was five again and his mother kissed the bruise on his knee from when he fell off his bike. He feels wanted. Safe. Home. Neither of you know how much time has passed as he slowly pulls away from you. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes bore into yours and the mellow look you have in them makes him want to melt into you.

“I need you.” He whispers against your lips and his fingers tighten when he feels you pulling away, your hands bunching the wet material of his soaked-up shirt. You want to push him away. It’s not right. You shouldn’t. Not right now.

“Javi-“ You protest weakly.

“Please.” And that’s all it takes before you tentatively seal your lips with his. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t take more than what you are ready to give - enjoying the slow and languid pass of your tongue as you hum in his mouth. You cup his cheeks - your thumbs smoothing slowly down his jaw and his hands rest on your shoulder blades. It’s slow and sensual and neither of you is in any kind of rush. His body buzzes all over, his lungs clench - the oxygen seemingly leaving his lungs and the only thing that can make him breathe again is you. He feels warmth in his chest spreading and spreading some more when you peck his lips and you are careful with him - as if he was fragile peace of art. And to you, he is.

He doesn’t know how he got into the bedroom before you are slowly pushing him down onto the mattress and his back collides with the silken sheets. He watches your form in the dim light as you leisurely undress in front of him. His chest heaves, his breath picks up, his pupils extend. He leans back on his elbows as he watches you - how your hand reaches behind to pull down the zipper of your sundress and as it pools on the floor beneath you. Another time he would have jumped at you and pull you towards him. Another time he would pin you against the floor and fuck you silly that you would forget your own name. Another time he would make you scream his name before you would even have the chance to undress. But tonight you both take it slow - enjoying the show you are putting on for him. Tonight he wants to be the one taken care of. And you know it.

You are a goddess sent from above as you stand a few feet away from him only in your underwear. He wants to worship you as his eyes rake over your body, taking note of every dip, every mole every “imperfection”. And you are simply perfect. He holds his breath when even the last pieces of clothing fall from your form and leave you in all of your naked glory. And he seems to be glued in place before you are coming his way. It feels like a dream when your nimble fingers hook under his belt and he hears the metal on the belt buckle fall onto the ground with a clink. He reaches for you as he slowly sits up - his rough hands coming to brush and caress your pebbled nipples. He feels the weight of your breasts in his palms and it is so strange how his simple touch makes your insides burn. All of it is strangely intimate. Neither of you talks, only the ragged breaths and quiet moans that fall out of your mouth can be heard in the stillness of the room.

You push at his chest and he falls backward again with a quiet thump. You rid him of his jeans - the damp material of it sticking to him and you both laugh when you almost push him on the edge of the bed with them. It’s sweet and it doesn’t feel forced or rushed. Just two people enjoying the presence of each other, the feel of their skin, the sentiment behind each touch going straight into their hearts.

His cock is hard, the tip of him resting on his belly and he scoots backward on the bed, you following the suit. The last piece of clothing - his shirt- is gone before he knows it as you throw it somewhere behind you and it lands on the floor with a wet plop. Your thighs swing on either side of his narrow hips and your wet core makes contact with the hardness of him as you smear your juices over his length. You roam and caress his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his neck. Stroking and teasing, and rubbing. And he does the same to you, his hands squeezing your ass before they move higher up your hips, his thick fingers ghosting over them and you squirm and giggle, your forehead bumping with his the movement tickles you. He wants to roll you over, to hover above you, to fill you up but your hands move to his shoulders, holding him tight as you look into his eyes. Your noses brush against each other and he sighs - as if all the weight from his chest had been lifted - when you whisper “I want to take care of you, Javi”.

Because yes, that’s what Javier wants. Someone to take care of him, to share his passion and hobbies and life with. He wants someone to take for a ride while they will wear his yellow aviators. He wants to take someone back to Laredo, to eventually settle down. He doesn’t want to take Escobar down and put end to all of this - retire after. And he wants to do all these things with you.

The tension leaves his body as he yields under your touch, undressing his wounds as he knows you will caress each one of his scars and kiss each bruise that is scattered not only on his body but his soul and heart too.

Bodies naked and souls bared to one another you reach blindly into the nightstand as you rip the condom and slowly roll it down his cock. Javier is big - his cock is thick and you could feel it the first time you felt him in your hands under the table in the club. When you first saw him - really saw him- your eyes almost bugged out from your head. Because you had no idea how you would fit him inside you. But you do not worry right now as you slowly sink down on him, the pinch almost too much to bare.

He waits for you to move as he kisses your neck, your shoulders, the underside of your chin. You feel like heaven around him - your walls squeezing him tight as you try to accommodate to his size. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you lift off him and then slowly -oh, so painfully slowly - sink back down the whole length of him. He kisses you more hungry this time, the kiss heated and fiery. One of his hands cups your ass while the other holds the back of your head - pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, messy and sloppy as do your movements.

You feel like he is somewhere deep in your stomach, the weight of him in you makes your toes curl and the coarse hair on the base of him scratches your small bundle of nerves just right with each slide of his cock. You feel every ridge and grin of him, the tip of him hitting something deep inside you. The muscles on his thigh flex when he starts meeting your thrusts and he growls against the soft skin of your neck when your blunt nails scratch his back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust upwards. It’s glorious - this feeling you both feel. It’s not about the physical proximity right now. But It’s about everything that led you to this moment. All those years of bickering and flirting, of fighting and spending your time together led to exactly to this moment. And the awareness of it all hits you like a truck because somehow, deep inside, you knew that this would happen one day. And you think he knows it too.

The droplet of sweat that rolls down the valley of your breasts makes him lap at you there and you moan, your nails digging harder into the muscles of his back when he catches one of your nipples into his mouth, one of his hands roaming to find your clit before his skilled fingers start to draw circles on it. The roughness of his fingertips and the feel of his tongue swirling on your nipple makes seizes before your inner muscles pull him deeper, the squelch ringing in your ears before you are clamping around him - falling into an abyss. You moan his name, your orgasm washing over you before you tug at his still-damp roots and he hisses - at the way you squeeze around him, at the way you hold him.

You kiss him frantically, your tongue exploring his mouth when you feel him sob into your mouth. He pulls away and your legs lock tighter around his middle, you can feel the softness of his stomach and a sound between a growl and a moan bubbles in the back of your throat. You can feel he is close when his thrusts become more hectic as he loses rhythm, his arms somehow trying to pull you closer, his pace increasing as he chases his own high.

It only takes a few more passes of his cock through the inside of your slicked pussy and your encouring words "Come on, I want you to cum, Javi" before he is cumming. He cums with a loud moan, thrashing and jerking under you. Pumping his seed into the condom and he holds you closer, his forehead resting on your clavicle, his hands tracing over your back as a shudder runs through you when you feel him twitch inside of you.

You stay like that before he moves you off him, disposing the condom into the bin and he is surprised he can even feel his own legs. His body completely relaxes when he falls into the bed with you and pulls you almost on top of him - your legs tangle together, your chin rests on his chest as you trace his eyebrows with your fingers and he smiles at you. Because he is so fucking happy in that moment he could burst with joy.

You talk a long time after as you tell him about your sister - how she squealed into your ear when you told her over the phone you were going on a date with Javier - and he grins because if you talked about your sister with him that means that he is worth talking about. He cherishes this information and hides it into the back of his mind.

You fall asleep not long after, moving away from him a little and he watches you - you are so pretty when you sleep. You are always pretty. And his. He knows you are because he is yours.

His lips plant soft kisses where your heart is before he murmurs into your skin where it rests “I love you”. So only your heart can hear it. He is not ready to tell you. Yet. But he is completely fine with knowing your heart heard the hushed words under the ray of moonlight stream coming from your window.

TAGS: @harriedandharassed

#javier pena #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #javier pena reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #soft javi #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal ff #narcos smut #javier pena one shot

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pretzel-box · 2 months ago

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OMG THE LITTLE DRABBLE YOU WRITE FOR SEBASTIAN WHERE READER ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HIM A LOVE NOTE INSTEAD OF THE FILES HE WANTED WAS SO GOOD!! can you please try to recreate it as a fanfic ? Love your writing btw :3 (also can it please be fem!reader?)

Tags: Established Relationship [Marriage], Fluff, Comfort, Motivational Notes

Words: 1k

Sebastian spends most of his precious time reading files, listening to annoying human visitors and scavenging. The last name was something he enjoyed since it was so simple and relaxing.

On this particular scavenging run, things were different. He hadn’t come across anything remarkable for a while, letting him feel a wave of frustration run over him, but then, tucked away in an old storage room, he found a file cabinet half-buried under debris. It was unlocked, and inside were files, all marked as unimportant or abandoned.

He hesitated for a second, figuring it was nothing more than outdated reports or useless data. But something compelled him to grab a few of the folders and stash them in his pack. Who knows? Maybe he could find some clues about the facility’s history, or something he could use against Urbanshade.

After the long trek back to his shop, Sebastian settled in, tossing his gear aside and grabbing a drink before collapsing at his cluttered desk. He didn’t bother with the files at first, instead leaning back, glancing at the framed photo on his desk.

It was of you, standing by his side, beaming that radiant smile of yours. He traced a finger gently over the frame with a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. The two of you had been through hell together, but despite everything, here you were—still by his side, still the one constant in his life.

Sighing, he leaned forward, flipping open the first folder from the stack he’d brought back. But instead of the usual boring documents he expected, he found something else—a small, folded note.

"Seb, I know you're probably frustrated right now, but I just want you to know how much I love you. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll get through whatever this is. Remember that, okay?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. He stared at the note for a moment, his fingers brushing over the paper as a warmth spread through his chest. He recognized the handwriting instantly—it was yours. But what was it doing here?

He reached for the next file, flipping it open with more curiosity this time. Inside, he found another note:

"When you feel like the world is crashing down on you, remember that you’re the one who holds us together. You’ve always been my hero, and you always will be."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he read the words, shaking his head in disbelief. What were these doing here? He sifted through more of the files, each one containing more of the same—small, handwritten notes from you, each one filled with love, encouragement, and sweet little reminders of how much you believed in him.

"I know you’re tired, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Drink some water, take a break. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready to come home."

“You mean everything to me, Sebastian. Don’t ever forget that. Even on the days you feel lost, I’m right here beside you."

His heart swelled with every note he found, the exhaustion from the day’s work slowly melting away. He could practically hear your voice in his head, soft and comforting, as if you were sitting right next to him.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course you’d do something like this. You always knew how to surprise him, even in the smallest ways. He could imagine you sneaking these notes into various places around the Blacksite, knowing full well that one day he’d find them. You were always thinking ahead, always finding ways to make him smile, even when he didn’t think he had the energy for it.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little less burdened.

Grinning, he stood up and moved to the back of his shop, grabbing two mugs and setting them on some boxes that served as tables. He heard the soft patter of your feet as you came down the ladder that led to the small loft in his shop where you usually rested, and soon enough, there you were, walking into the room, rubbing your eyes from a nap you’d taken.

“Hey,” you said, smiling as you stretched your arms over your head, an action that he always loved to see you did it. “What’s with the grin?”

Sebastian just shook his head, watching you with a fondness he rarely showed anyone else. “I found your little scavenger hunt,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You blinked, confused for a moment before realization dawned on your face. “Oh, you found them?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye. “Took you long enough.”

He walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You know,” he said softly, his voice full of affection, “you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. His body was cold as always, making you feel cooled down but his actions had a comforting warmth to it as if a weighted blanket was laid upon you. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I really do.”

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world feeling a little less heavy in that moment. Eventually, you pulled away, glancing over at the files scattered on the table.

“So,” you teased, “how many did you find?”

“Enough to remind me I married a complete sap,” he replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss him, your lips meeting him and you could feel him lean closer. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you from brooding all the time.”

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Guess I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me.”

And for once, Sebastian didn’t mind being stuck at all.

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure #pressure x reader

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months ago

Text

If We're Being Honest [2/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6k [Part1]

Summary: It's been a couple of months since you drunkenly kissed Matt and you've been avoiding him ever since, but Matt realizes that your absence from his life afterwards pained him more than he ever could've imagined.

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings (with a twist), delayed comfort, anxious/depressed inebriated Reader, fluff at the end

a/n: The second and final part of this little fic is finally here! Hopefully the comfort is satisfying enough after the angsty first part. You also get Matt's POV in the first half of this one. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @lotrefcp @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte

Matt slid his desk chair back with a sigh, relieved the frustrating work day had finally come to an end. Standing up, his hands felt around his desk for the mess of papers he’d had scattered along it. He gathered them up, neatly stacking them together before he stuffed them back into the folder they'd initially been inside. Bending over, his back muscles protesting the movement from his previous night out as Daredevil, he picked up his briefcase that was leaning against his desk on the floor. Placing the briefcase on top of his desk, he packed the folder inside before closing it up and tossing the strap of the bag over his head, taking a moment to position it comfortably along his shoulder.

Making his way around his desk afterwards, one of his hands absently grabbed his folded up cane from off of it as he headed towards the door of his office. He could already hear Karen and Foggy in the firm's main room, the pair of them clearly talking about wedding related things. As he stepped out of his office and into the room, he could feel the air shift minutely as both of them looked over in his direction.

“More wedding details, Fog?” Matt asked, walking over to where the pair were leaning against the front office desk.

“Did you know that absolutely everything is a detail?” Foggy complained. “Like napkins. Did you know napkins mattered? Because I didn't. They're literally meant to wipe your dirty face and hands on, why does it matter what they look like? Or what material it’s made out of? It's a napkin!”

“Don't let Marci hear you say that,” Karen teased.

Matt could hear the way her fingers were tapping away at the screen of her phone. Probably sending a text message from the sounds of it.

“I just want a break from all the wedding planning,” Foggy grumbled. “I feel like half our place is currently storage for some binder or seating chart or wedding magazine or stack of business cards and pamphlets.”

“Well you'll get a bit of a break from it this weekend,” Karen assured him, setting her phone onto the desk beside her. “When we go wedding dress shopping with Marci on Saturday. She'll be talking all our ears off about the details for the whole day instead of yours.”

Foggy let out a dreamy sigh at the thought. “And I'll be relaxing at home by myself thinking about literally anything else while all you lovely bridesmaids, who I'm sure are vastly more interested in color schemes and table decor, discuss all of that,” he replied.

At the mention of bridesmaids, Matt's mind immediately jumped to you. He hadn't seen you since the night he'd offered to walk you back to his place and let you sleep over after you'd had a little too much to drink at Josie’s. The same night you'd randomly kissed him and told him you'd had feelings for him–something that had come as a complete shock to Matt.

You had actively avoided him ever since then. Ignoring his phone calls and texts. Never returning a single voice-mail he'd left asking to talk to you about what had happened that night. You'd stopped meeting up with everyone at Josie’s, only spending time with Karen and Marci over the past couple of months. Foggy even only ever saw you whenever you'd stopped by to see Marci at their apartment when helping with the wedding planning.

Matt expected you to be embarrassed after the incident, especially because he could feel the way your body had reacted before you'd sprinted out of his apartment and back into the rain outside. He'd felt bad, wondering if he'd really done something wrong that night to accidentally lead you on. He hadn’t meant to, he’d just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’d seemed off all night to him, but you had no idea about his heightened senses, so it wasn’t as if he could ask you why your body was all over the place that night. It had been confusing, and the amount of beers you’d drank certainly hadn’t helped him get a read on you, either.

He thought he’d been doing the right thing that night. The fling with that woman wasn’t worth risking you walking home in the rain drunk–which he’d overheard you talking to yourself about doing. He hadn’t wanted to risk something happening to you, because Matt damn well knew what could happen to drunk women walking home alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’d certainly rescued a few himself. But somehow you must’ve misread the entire situation and thought he’d been after more than that. Which was absurd because you’d always just been a great friend to him since he’d met you. A really close friend who he’d been sorely missing lately.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Matt said your name aloud, catching the attention of both Karen and Foggy. “Is she…going to be there this weekend, too?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, she’s one of the bridesmaids,” Karen answered. “So of course she’ll be there on Saturday.”

“I’m guessing she’s still not talking to you then, huh buddy?” Foggy asked him.

Matt sighed, shaking his head. He’d hated the silence from you and he had no idea how to fix things.

“No,” he replied. “She’s still very much ignoring me.”

“I don’t exactly blame her,” Karen cut in. “The whole situation sounded incredibly embarrassing and awkward when you told us why she was avoiding you. Especially considering how quiet she naturally is. For her to just kiss you and then to be rejected by you right after?”

“Ouch,” Foggy muttered. “Yeah, she’s probably never speaking to you again, man. Sorry.”

Matt ran a hand across his mouth, his shoulders sagging in defeat. The thought of never spending time with you ever again physically hurt. He’d never again hear another one of your ridiculous jokes or have another surprise drop-in lunch visit at the office from you. You always somehow remembered his favorite sandwich from his favorite sandwich shop, too. He’d always thought it was sweet that you’d made a mental note of his particular order, considering you had no idea how delicate his palate was with his heightened senses. Though he supposed now knowing that you’d had feelings for him all along had that attention to detail making more sense.

Standing in the office, an uncomfortable feeling twisted his stomach into knots, his heart squirming in his chest as the realization that you might really be gone from his life fully hit him. He didn’t like it one bit.

“You okay, Matt?” Foggy asked him. “You sort of look like you’re going to be sick.”

Slowly, Matt shook his head. “I just wish I could fix things,” he confessed. “I wish she’d just talk to me again. I don't like this weirdness between us.”

He heard the way the air shifted in the room again. As if both Karen and Foggy had looked at each other. Matt’s eyes narrowed curiously behind his glasses, his head tilting to the side. Both of their heart rates had slightly elevated at almost the exact same moment when they’d done that.

Why?

“So uh, you really miss her, huh?” Foggy asked.

“Of course,” Matt answered easily. “She’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah?” Karen questioned.

Matt’s head canted curiously to the side at the odd tone in her voice. What were they getting at?

“Yeah,” Matt reiterated. “She’s been an important person in my life ever since the pair of you introduced us a while back. We always got along so well, and she always had such witty things to say. I miss talking to her. Josie’s just doesn’t feel the same without her anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair in growing aggravation. “I hate that I can’t just call her and hear her voice whenever I want anymore. And that she never randomly stops into the office just to say ‘hi.’. It–it hurts that she’s just gone now.”

The air shifted again as Karen and Foggy clearly exchanged a look with each other. Frustration began to fill Matt at whatever it was they weren’t saying.

“What?” Matt snapped. “You both keep looking at each other, I can feel it. What’s that about?”

Foggy cleared his throat, his attention returning to Matt. “It’s just…are you sure you just miss your friend?” he asked carefully.

Matt pulled a face at the ridiculous question. “What? Of course I do,” he shot back.

“No,” Karen said, shaking her head. “He means, are you sure you miss her because she’s just a friend to you?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to–”

Matt abruptly stopped short, his mouth hanging open for a second as Karen’s words suddenly registered in his mind. Lips pressing together seconds later, Matt’s hands landed on his hips as he shifted his weight on his feet.

“What’re you trying to say?” Matt asked the pair. “That you think I like her? As more than a friend?”

“Well, buddy,” Foggy began carefully, “you’ve been acting pretty moody lately. Ever since she stopped talking to you. And you haven’t been as interested in the ladies, either. We’ve both noticed you turning them down. I don’t think you’ve brought a single person back to your place since that night.”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “So? I just haven’t been interested in that exactly,” he replied stiffly. “That doesn’t have anything to do with her.”

“You perk up at her name every time she’s mentioned,” Karen added. “And for the past couple of months you always find some way to randomly ask how she’s doing or what she’s been up to.”

“And when we told you she’d gotten onto that dating app,” Foggy chimed in, “you were in a horrible mood the whole day afterwards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so grumpy for no reason to quite that extent before. I mean,” he continued with a chuckle, “that was like a Matt Murdock record level of moody. And there was no reason for it that day except for, well, that .”

Matt licked his lips, his fingers digging into his hips through his dress clothes. He’d just been worried about the jerks you might meet on that site, that was all. And he’d been jealous that you were still talking to Foggy, Karen, and Marci but not him. That had been all it was.

Right?

Karen leaned up against the side of the desk, her arms crossing over her chest as she focused on Matt. He bristled under the attention, feeling like he was suddenly on the stand and she was about to interrogate him.

“Let me ask you something,” she began, “and I want you to be honest and really think. How’d you feel when she kissed you that night?”

Matt frowned in her direction. “I told you, it’d been a shock,” he answered. “I hadn’t anticipated her to do that. Then I was worried I’d given her the wrong impression and I felt horrible that I’d upset her.”

Karen was roughly shaking her head at him. “No, how did it make you feel Matt?” she asked again.

“I mean I–” he stopped short again, his mouth closing almost immediately.

In all honesty, with everything that had happened that night, he hadn’t really thought about that. He’d been afraid of you thinking he was trying to take advantage of you when you were drunk, something he’d never do. And then he’d been upset and worried about you running out of his place crying and trying to make it home that night. He couldn’t even follow after you because it wouldn’t make sense that a blind man could navigate his way down the stairwell after you like he knew he’d be able to. And he was certain if he’d called your name down in the lobby–because he shouldn't have been able to know you by the sound of your heartbeat and scent of your perfume–you’d only run out of the building and ignore him. Chasing after you hadn't been an option.

But he had wanted to. Something he hadn’t even thought about after the fact because he’d been so upset at you ignoring his calls and messages. All he'd been focused on was how much it hurt that he'd lost such a great friend. He hadn't really stopped to think about how he had wanted to follow you or how that surprise kiss had made him feel.

Had he enjoyed it? It had been timid and hesitant, only a brief kiss, but it hadn't been horrible. He'd just…never thought about you like that before. Because you weren't the kind of woman who blatantly threw yourself at him, the type he'd bring back to his apartment for a fuck and then be content to never see again.

You definitely deserved more than that.

You were the type someone brought home to meet their parents, the type a guy planned dates for, wanted to spend holidays with. You were the long term, committed relationship type of woman. The type Matt avoided because the thought of something serious scared him, especially with how he spent most of his evenings.

But he missed you. He missed the scent of your perfume you always wore, the smell sometimes even lingering on his clothes when he'd return home from Josie’s. He missed the way you'd try to fill awkward silences whenever you were with him, always saying whatever random thing was on your mind. He missed the way your heart usually jumped whenever you first spotted him–because he'd always known you were attracted to him but he'd never thought more of it than that. He missed the sound of your voice after a difficult day at work, on days like today.

“Well?” Karen prompted, breaking through his thoughts.

“I uh,” he began, pausing to clear his throat, “I guess I never really thought about her like that before. I've always avoided anything possibly serious, and I've always tried to keep her at a distance because she didn't know about Daredevil. So I never really gave it much thought. Especially since she'd always just been there before. But now that she's not…” Matt trailed off, aware of the strange and unfamiliar feeling growing in his chest. “I guess I miss her more than I think I even realized,” he finished softly.

“So wait, let me get this straight,” Foggy began, excitedly waving his hands in front of himself. “You're just now realizing that maybe you really do like her? Like for real? As more than just a good friend?”

A small smile slid across Matt's lips as he thought of the sound of your laughter and how he wished he could hear it tonight after the shit day he’d had. His hands dropped from his hips, that stupid smile growing a little at the thought of you. “I suppose I am,” he admitted.

Foggy pushed off the desk and crossed the few steps over towards Matt. Both of his hands flew forward, grabbing Matt's shoulders in a tight grip and lightly shaking him. Back by the desk, Karen tried to hide her laugh behind a hand.

“Then dammit, Murdock,” Foggy ordered, “Go tell her that!”

The smile grew wider on Matt's face, an idea forming in his mind already. If you weren't going to answer your phone, he'd find a way to make sure you couldn’t ignore him.

Straightening up your kitchen now that you'd finished with dinner, you paused what you were doing when you heard your phone alert you to a notification. Turning around, you picked it up from where it had been sitting on the counter, curious to what the notification was about.

Unlocking your phone, you noticed you'd received another message on the dating app you'd downloaded weeks ago. Leaning your back against the nearby counter, a smile drew itself across your lips. It was the first message you'd gotten this week and the sight immediately lifted your mood. The prospect of someone possibly being interested in you had your stomach excitedly jumping up into your chest.

You opened the message, beginning to excitedly read it over. Though the more you read, the faster your smile shifted into a frown. It was yet another sleazy sounding guy clearly trying to talk himself up in a way that sounded both fabricated and disrespectful. You cringed at the things he’d said about your photos–things he clearly thought were meant to be compliments but were vastly inappropriate and made you feel uncomfortable instead of flattered. Reaching the end of the brief message, you were shaking your head and closing out of the app before setting your phone back onto the counter with a roll of your eyes. It wasn't even worth your time responding back to the guy after a few of the things you'd read because he absolutely wasn't a match and you had no interest in ever meeting him.

With a sigh you made your way towards your fridge, your mind now focused on that unopened bottle of wine in there. It looked like you'd be having another night in with yourself tonight. But just as you'd opened the door to your fridge, your hand about to reach in and grab the bottle of red wine, there was a knock at your apartment door.

You paused, half-bent in front of your fridge as your eyebrows drew together in confusion at the interruption. Assuming it might’ve been Karen or Marci stopping by to go over something for wedding dress shopping which was planned for Saturday, you gradually stood back up and closed the fridge door. You figured that bottle of wine could wait a few more minutes.

Making your way out of your kitchen, you cut through your living room and over towards your door. Unlocking it, you pulled the door wide open without even glancing through the peephole first. Expecting to see either blonde woman standing there, you were stunned to instead find Matt standing in your hallway with a small smile on his lips.

Your heart lurched its way into your throat at the sight of him, your lips parting in surprise. Hand tightening around the handle of your door in a death grip, you fought your initial urge to just slam it in his face. What the hell was he doing here? Matt was the absolute last person you wanted to see standing at your door after your last interaction with him. It had been a few weeks since that nightmare of a night where you'd drunkenly kissed him and you still became insanely embarrassed at the memory of it. You certainly had no interest in talking to him about it further. You'd already apologized for just kissing him like you'd done, now all you wanted to do was never speak to him again. You figured he had to have gotten the hint already with how you’d been ignoring him.

So why was he suddenly at your apartment?

He said your name, that smile still on his mouth as he held up his right hand. Your face twisted into a look of confusion at the sight of a bouquet of beautiful flowers you hadn’t initially noticed he’d been holding.

“Can I take you to dinner this Sunday night?” he asked.

Teeth gritting down hard together, your eyes narrowed back at him as anger quickly ignited within your gut. You immediately remembered drunkenly confessing to him that you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had brought you flowers or asked you on a date. Now here he was doing both after he’d just very obviously and clearly rejected you. Did he think this was some way to break the ice between you both after what had happened? Some sort of way to turn everything into a joke?

“Do you think that's funny?” you asked sharply. “Making fun of me like this? As if I don’t feel like an absolute dumbass already, now you come here rubbing it in my face? You don’t like me like that, I got the message loud and clear already, Matthew. I don’t remotely find this funny.”

Matt's expression quickly morphed into one of shock and surprise at your reaction. He shook his head quickly, a crease forming between his dark brows.

“No, that’s–that’s not what I’m doing at all!” he exclaimed earnestly. “I guess I shouldn’t have led with that. Can I just come in and talk to you? Explain everything? Please?”

You were about to tell him no, wanting to hide your hurt, disappointment, and embarrassment behind a wall of anger instead of crying over Matt yet again, especially in front of him once more, but the solemn and desperate look on his face gave you pause. Matt and you had your jokes, but even this would’ve been a bit ridiculous for him to have planned out as a way to smooth things over between the pair of you after what had happened. He’d never seemed callous like that in the past. But the only other thing that would make sense was him actually coming here to ask you on a real date. Which also seemed equally absurd since almost seven weeks ago he’d already told you that you were just a friend.

“I swear if you let me explain, this will seem far less confusing,” he assured you. “Just–just give me five minutes?”

With an irritated sigh, you stepped away from the door. “Fine,” you relented. “Five minutes, Matt.”

An almost nervous smile spread across his lips as he made his way through the doorway and into your apartment. You closed the door behind him, your body a confusing mix of emotions that you were struggling to make sense of right now. You were upset about seeing him again after that embarrassing moment, your anger quickly giving way to discomfort. It didn't help that the tiniest spark of hope had reappeared in your chest at the prospect of him truly being here to ask you out on a date, but you immediately reminded yourself of what happened the last time you’d stupidly thought there was a chance Matt had feelings for you. You didn’t want to wind up misreading things with him a second time.

Turning back towards him, you were met with the bouquet of flowers in his extended hand. It was a stunning mixture of dahlias and greenery that couldn't have been cheap now that you were really looking at it.

“Dahlias are your favorite, if I’m not mistaken,” he said softly. “I remembered you mentioning that before at Josie’s when Marci had been talking about flowers for the wedding.”

Eyes darting up from the bouquet in his hands, they landed on his face. He still looked nervous and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of that. Matthew Murdock never outwardly got nervous. You also weren’t sure what to make of him remembering your favorite flower months after you’d brought it up around him just once.

Not knowing how to really respond, the confusing mix of emotions in your body only growing, you hesitantly reached a hand out and accepted the flowers. “Thank you,” you murmured.

In an attempt to keep your hands busy, and because you weren’t remotely interested in being the one to lead the conversation, you made your way back into your kitchen. You were aware of Matt following after you as you searched for the lone vase in one of your kitchen cabinets. Eventually you found it and began to fill it with water, impatient for Matt to say something as you kept your back to him.

“About that night,” Matt began cautiously, “when I’d invited you to stay over and you kissed me?”

Turning off the kitchen faucet, your eyelids slowly lowered. Your body tensed, bracing yourself for whatever was coming next. Keeping your back to him, you knew you couldn’t bear to look at him right now with whatever he was about to say. The jumbled, drunken memory of that evening came flooding back to you and you were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment, tears stinging at your eyes behind closed lids. You remained silent though, waiting for him to continue.

“I hadn’t anticipated that, if I’m being honest,” he finally continued, still speaking in a measured tone. “My intention had been to make sure you made it somewhere safe that evening because I knew you’d drank a bit more than usual. I couldn’t stand the thought of you walking home alone drunk at night in the rain. So I’m sorry if I was giving off signals to you that were other than that at the time because they weren’t intentional.” He paused, clearing his throat lightly. “And it–it wasn’t exactly until this afternoon that I realized maybe some of them were subconscious because I hadn’t quite realized what I actually felt until today.”

Your hands tightened around both the vase and the bouquet of flowers as you held your breath. That flicker of hope had grown just marginally in your chest without your permission, and now it was teetering on the edge of growing larger or diminishing itself entirely. You felt like you couldn’t take another breath as you waited for him to clarify what he meant.

“It’s been weeks since we’ve talked,” Matt said, pain in his voice. “Weeks since you’ve come to Josie’s or stopped by the office. Or answered one of my phone calls. And everyday has just felt off because of it. Because I miss you. And I thought for the longest time it was just because I was missing one of my best friends, but then Karen and Foggy apparently caught onto something that I hadn’t even noticed in myself.”

With shaking hands, you opened your eyes and slipped the bouquet of flowers into the filled vase. Nervously you turned around, reaching your hand out to set them onto the counter next to you before your gaze finally landed back on Matt. He was standing at the other end of your small kitchen now, and it was almost as if he knew your eyes were on him as a gentle smile began pulling up the corners of his lips.

“If we’re being honest,” Matt confessed, “I’ve always tried to avoid relationships. I haven’t had the best of luck with them, and well, there are things someone actually dating me would need to be made aware of–something I generally don’t open up about. But I think I’d be ready to discuss that with you after dinner Sunday night if you’d let me take you out.”

He paused, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as he gripped his cane tighter between both of his hands. Briefly you wondered what things he meant, but he was speaking again before you’d had long to contemplate that comment.

“The truth is, I didn’t truly realize what you meant to me until you were no longer a constant in my life,” Matt admitted. “And I can’t stand not having you around. Not just because you’re my friend, but because I have feelings for you, too. Feelings that are more than friendly that I’d like to explore further if you’d still be willing to as well.”

Heart skipping a beat entirely in your chest, you exhaled a quivering breath at the admission. Matt liked you. You . He’d really come here to bring you flowers and to ask you on a date, not to mock you or make light of your currently sad and lacking situation of a love life. You heard him let out a nervous laugh as your mind continued to race at everything he was saying.

“I uh, really wish you’d say absolutely anything right now,” he continued, “because your silence is scaring the hell out of me. I can’t tell if you’re still mad or just trying to process everything.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to find the words to express how you were feeling. You could barely understand your own mind right now after he’d dropped all that on you. You'd gone so long never believing he'd be interested in you like that, and then after what had happened weeks ago when he'd blatantly rejected you, you really figured you'd never be anything more to him. But now here he was telling you the opposite and you could hardly believe it.

“I’m still sort of processing,” you replied, voice just above a whisper. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to hear you ever say any of that. Certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear any of this tonight.”

A sheepish smile tugged at his lips just before he hung his head, nodding lightly. “Yeah, it sort of surprised me earlier, too,” he told you. “I’m shocked I wasn’t quite as aware of my own feelings as Karen and Foggy seemed to be, but uh…that probably has a little something to do with some other things going on in my life.”

Chewing your lip nervously, you continued to take in the sight of him standing across from you in your kitchen. He was still dressed in his dress clothes from work, clearly having finished late and having come straight here to see you afterwards. The nerves in your stomach gradually intensified as you took in the smile on his handsome face that you could somewhat make out despite the way he’d ducked his head. Seconds later his covered gaze rose up, falling back on you. You only gnawed on your bottom lip faster, something electric feeling like it was sparking between you both in the small space all the sudden. A feeling that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

“So I suppose now I’m curious to know if you’d let me take you to dinner Sunday night, since I know you’ve got plans for Saturday?” Matt asked hopefully. “Would that…be something you’d like?”

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding immediately.

Matt took a few steps forward, the smile that had been lighting up his face growing warmer. His hands reached up, removing the glasses from his face before he slipped them into the inside pocket of his suit coat as he continued to make his way towards you. You leaned further back into the counter behind you, your hands landing on either side of the countertop as you tried to steady yourself. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but there was a glint in his eye that had your breath coming in sharper than usual.

“And in that case,” Matt continued, his voice dropping a few octaves to something sultry and soft, the sound increasing your pulse as he continued to close the gap between you both, “would it be alright if we had a redo of our first kiss? This time with both of us sober and actually anticipating it?”

Breath still coming in shallow, it was difficult for your brain to send the signal to your mouth to actually formulate a sentence. You’d managed a quiet noise in response as he came to a stop just in front of you, his body mere inches from yours as he set his cane to the side. You could practically feel something sparking between the pair of you as he just stood there, his eyes focused along your chin. His head tilted to the side as if in silent question when you hadn’t given him a verbal confirmation.

“I–yes,” you finally answered.

He leaned in, moving so painfully slow as he came to rest his forehead against yours. His hand was suddenly on your neck, delicately gliding his fingertips upwards until the palm of his hand cupped your cheek, cradling it in his warm hand. His thumb rested just beneath your jaw, somehow knowingly tilting your mouth up further towards his at just the right angle. You felt lightheaded beneath his touch and the close proximity, your body involuntarily sinking forward into his when the tip of his nose just barely brushed against yours.

Matt shifted just the slightest bit before you felt his lips finally land on yours. Your eyelids immediately fluttered shut, a faint sigh sneaking out of your throat at how soft his lips were–softer than you recalled them. With the way he carefully began to move them against yours, you felt your knees going weak. Hands releasing the grip you had on the countertop, they darted forward and grabbed fistfuls of his dress shirt, just beneath his suit coat.

As you held onto him like a lifeline, his mouth pressed more firmly against yours. Fingers curling into his dress shirt, you pulled him roughly into your body. He stumbled forward into you, a rumbling growl coming from his chest in response. The delicious weight of him against the front of you only pressed you farther into the counter behind you as his other hand landed on your hip, gripping it tight.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that Matt gently broke away, his own breath heavy as he rested his forehead back to yours. Your tongue darted out, licking your damp lips as you tried to catch your breath. You could still taste him on you, the realization causing you to actively have to stop yourself from leaning forward and kissing him again.

“Well there's–there's certainly something there,” Matt said with a breathy laugh. “But uh, maybe we should leave things there until after Sunday night?”

You nodded, though it was hard to fully agree when his hips were still pressing you back into your kitchen counter and his mouth was mere inches from yours. Especially knowing how damn good of a kisser he was now, you wondered what else he did well.

“Right,” you breathed out.

He shifted against you, burying his face against the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you. You couldn't fight the smile on your face at how he clearly didn't want to pull away from you, instead getting closer to you. You'd never seen him this affectionate with anyone else before.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your neck.

Tentatively your hands released their grip on his shirt, your own arms snaking their way around his waist and drawing him closer. You came to rest your forehead against his shoulder, eyes closing as you relaxed into him.

“I missed you, too,” you admitted. “And I'm sorry for getting drunk and kissing you like an idiot and then ignoring you for weeks.”

“Well, I admit it wasn't great being ignored by you,” he said, his lips tickling you as he spoke. “But at the same time, if you hadn't done either of those, I might never have realized how I felt about the woman who'd always been right in front of me the whole time.”

Your smile grew, your arms holding him a bit tighter. “I suppose that makes me feel a little less embarrassed, then.”

Matt nuzzled his face further into your neck, the bit of stubble on his cheeks pleasantly tickling you. You couldn't fight the giggle that slipped out of you in response. Seconds later you swore you felt his mouth pulling into a smile against your skin.

“So Sunday night,” Matt began slowly, “if I show up with flowers for you again, you're not going to yell at me, are you?”

You couldn’t resist the laugh that fell out of you. Burying your face further against his shoulder in slight embarrassment, you replied, “No, I'm definitely not going to yell at you for bringing me flowers again.”

“Good,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Because that was admittedly a terrifying experience.”

The pair of you fell into a fit of laughter in your kitchen, arms still wrapped around each other as you did. As the pleasant sound filled your apartment, the pair of you holding onto each other tightly like neither wanted to be the first to let the other go, you couldn't help but think about what a turn everything had taken all because you'd drunkenly misread a situation and kissed your friend.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil

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ilythena · 8 months ago

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𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM the day summer ended, and best friends move away.

Fem!reader, horribly written angst but like it's barely angst, ends fluffy cause I couldn't do it guys I am not the strongest soldier!, childhood friends to lovers, Quinn is the best comforter ever, idk how to explain it but you two are so so so so in love!!!!!!

♪ SATURN - SZA

"You don't understand, l'm just so nervous she won't fit in with the other kids."

Your mother leans over the kitchen counter with the phone tucked in between her shoulder and her ear, talking to her sister. Setting her keys down with a sigh, she finally sits down—nerves racking through her entire body.

"She'll be fine, y/n's never been the type of girl to be shy!" Your aunt comforts, and she tosses her head back with a groan.

You're walking down the hallways of a brand new kindergarten, taking small looks around the place to stare at the yellow walls and the colorful designs on classroom doors.

The lady you're currently walking hand in hand with slows down at a door with clouds on it and opens it slowly, ushering you inside quietly in order to not drag the attention of all the children to you.

"Okay y/n" she coos "this is your class, your teacher is over there, her name is Mrs. Penny and she's super nice." She whispers and points to a lady with ginger hair who’s currently attending to a young boy who's coloring.

"I have to go honey, make yourself comfortable!" As the lady leaves, the teacher turns her head and sees you standing there awkwardly, fiddling with your oversized backpack straps.

"Oh! Come here honey! Are you the new student?" You nod as you walk over and sit in the seat next to her. "What's your name?" "Y/n!" You shout, a little too loudly as everyone looks at you.

"Oh, inside voice sweetheart." She giggles and you shy away with a smile "nice to meet you..." "it's nice to meet you, this is Jack. We're discussing shapes right now with this worksheet, do you wanna try and do it with him?"

The boy looks at you with a small smile and you nod in response to her question. She leaves you two alone and you're at the table with him.

"y/n, Is this one a square?" "It's a circle.." "oh."

"Jack, do you remember how we met?" "Honestly, nah."

You plop down onto Jack's bed with a laugh, and take out your folder that was given to everyone in your class earlier today. "We're picking classes tomorrow, right?" He says as he enters the room after you, and a yep with a pop of the p comes out from your mouth.

"What classes are you gonna pick? I wanted to do cooking, oh! And maybe try out the tennis team?" You say, taking out the sheet of electives and a pen so you could circle which ones you would like "I don't know... I'll choose whatever you choose." He shrugs and throws his bag down onto the floor, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Well, you know the girl who lives across from me, right? She said that we should do something that isn't too hard, since we're gonna be freshman next year." You circle a few classes that sound simple, and when you show the paper to Jack, he nods in agreement.

"Just stick by me! We'll do it together so that way it'll be easier." You say with a smile, and Jack can feel all the air leave his lungs as you move your hair out of your face. You two have been friends for years now, sticking by each other in basically everything.

Years ago when you first moved into the neighborhood, Your mother was pleasantly surprised when you had came home from school that evening, going on and on about how you had made a new friend on your first day. Soon you and Jack found out that you two didn't live that far away from each other, and your mothers had scheduled a play date for the two of you immediately.

Your family quickly became close with Jack's, and it was like you became their sister in the following years. Ellen and Jim weren't even surprised to see you randomly in their house anymore.

Though, behind closed doors when you were in the comfort of your own home, Luke and especially Quinn loved to tease Jack about his growing crush on you. Jack claims went from ‘it isn’t true!’ to ‘it’ll pass soon! It’s just a little crush!’, but as the days went on and the more he was around you, it was like he could never get enough of you.

At the beginning of the year, you dyed your hair and did a different style that you absolutely fucked up, and even then Jack still thought you were pretty. You've always been pretty to him, but now as your hair grew out and your features started to mature, you were beginning to become seriously beautiful.

Staring, he began to get a little nervous at the sight of you. The sunset from his window enhancing your features to him and it's like time stopped.

"Jack? I think your mom is calling us downstairs for something" you say, and it snaps him out of his trance. "Oh, sure, um, let's go." He says as he suddenly bolts through the door and leaves you confused as you follow him down the steps.

"Can you believe this is it?" You breathe out as the two of you sit on the dock at his lake house, watching the sun go down side by side while everyone else is still inside the house.

“...no." He hesitates, subtly feeling the wood beneath his fingers—trying to ground himself as he steals a glance at you.

Silence is the only thing with you two. Nothing more than the sound of the water moving and distant chatter of both your family and Jack's in the distance, assembling dinner together.

“I can still vividly remember me and you picking out our classes for high school, and now I’m getting ready to go off to college. It all happened so fast.” You say, your breathing slowing down and tapping your fingers against the dock.

"I'm so proud of you, Jack. Getting into the NHL is fucking crazy." You softly say, turning your head to look at him and he nervously keens into himself at your praise.

"Thanks. You did really well too, getting into Harvard is really hard." He mumbles and you giggle. "Yeah… Well, let's get inside and enjoy the rest of the day, right? It's my last day here before I go away." You gently bring yourself up and reach a hand down to him to help him up as well.

The two of you walk inside and you're immediately wrapped up in a conversation with your mom and Ellen, in which Jack stares at the two of you when he plops down onto the couch with a heavy sigh and Quinn can feel the sadness radiating off of him.

"Why is he so sad?" Luke whispers to Quinn, and he rolls his eyes at his younger brother's lack of awareness. "He's upset because y/n is leaving tomorrow." He replies and walks over to the couch Jack is sitting on so he can take the seat next to him.

"Y'know, you look absolutely miserable." Quinn jokes and Jack cracks a small smile but it fades just as quickly as it came. Quinn sighs and nudges his brother, Jack finally looks at him.

"If you're that sad about it, why not tell her how you feel? It seems like everyone knows you two love each other except y'all" he says and Jack throws his head back with a groan.

"Not that easy. If I tell her and she doesn't like me back then what? We pretend nothing happens and I'm just hopelessly in love with her?" "You'd be hopelessly in love whether you tell her and she doesn't like you back or you never tell her at all." Quinn replies and Jack huffs and goes up to his room.

You can see him storm upstairs in the corner of your eye and look at Quinn. "What's up with him?" You mouth and the only thing you can make out is "no idea."

Before he knew it, the night had passed and faded into the morning. And Jack really thought he was prepared for everything, but he quickly realized he wasn't when he saw you packing your stuff into the trunk of your car.

The sun isn't even out yet and you're already about to leave him all alone. He runs out with his shirt about to fall off his shoulders and his hair all messy. You'd laugh at his disheveled state if you weren't about to cry.

He breathes out heavily when you grab him tightly in a hug, Tears staining his shirt as you begin to rock him back and forth. "I'm gonna miss you so much, J." Your voice breaks and Jack's heart can't take anymore as he embraces you.

"Not more than I'm gonna miss you." He mumbles and tucks his head into your neck as your mom packs your final suitcase into the car.

"Y/n, honey, I know it's hard but we have to go." Your mother speaks softly, knowing if she was any louder you'd burst into tears. You slowly let go of Jack and give Luke and Quinn hugs as well before going right back to Jack.

"Promise to stay in touch, okay?" He whispers into the air, heart heavy when you nod a yes to his statement. You pull away for a final time before getting into the passenger side of the car and stare at all the Hughes brothers as your mom begins to pull out the driveway.

They wave goodbye sadly and watch as you drive away, Jack immediately running back to his room and sobbing when he reaches it.

Unbeknownst to him, Quinn was hot on his tail and barely stopped the door from slamming as he watched his younger brother cry uncontrollably into his pillow.

"Jack, it's gonna be okay-" "it's over! I lost my chance because I was too scared to say anything!" Jack wailed, "it's never over. Y/N cares about you too much to just let distance ruin the two of you like that. You both will find your way back to each other one day, just not today." Quinn states with a soothing hand against Jack's back as he leans into his older brother.

Eventually, their parents find the two boys together and join them with comforting Jack, watching as the sun finally rises.

It's been two years since you've left for college, and though you've kept in touch well with the Hughes family, it was obvious something was missing when you spoke to Jack.

Your mother convinced you to come home for the winter, and here you were again seeing everyone for the first time since you've been gone.

Ellen and Jim were over the moon to see you again, questioning you about your studies and how you're doing with being so far away.

Jack spots you talking to his parents and awkwardly smiles at you.

"So... how've you been?" "Good. Made some new friends, it's been pretty good." It's as if you two never knew each other and are just meeting for the first time ever. As everyone seems to go inside because it's too cold you two stay there looking at each other.

"Jack, what happened to us? Why is it so different all of a sudden? Did I do something?" You whisper and Jack can feel his nerves spike up

"No! You didn't do anything! It's just... I don't know. It's been tough for me. NHL is a real kick in the ass." He mumbles and you tilt your head at him.

"I know that's not the real reason, but I won't press you." You say as you reach out to gently hug him, and he freezes for a moment before hugging you back with a stable grip.

He’s silent as you hug him. Quietly enjoying your embrace before it’s coldly ripped away from him when you let him go and walk into the house without another word.

He slowly enters as well after a few minutes have gone by, and he’s immediately stopped by Luke and Quinn, who both have confused looks on their faces.

“Dude, what the hell was that?” “What was what?” “That.” Luke repeats, and Jack raises an eyebrow at the sudden questioning.

“You’ve been talking about how much you’ve missed y/n for the past two years, and now that she’s here you’re being all quiet and acting like you never even knew her? What was that?” Sighing at the explanation he was given, he moves the group of three into a more secluded corner near the door so nobody could hear their conversation.

“I don’t know! It’s just— I can’t explain it!” He whisper shouts. “I haven’t seen her in so long, and it’s like when she looks at me I just can’t move!”

“Well get it together! I was talking to her the other day and she was upset because she thought you didn’t like being around her anymore! You’re really going to blow any chance you have if you don’t fix your act!” Quinn whispers back, and Jack rolls his eyes at both of them.

“Listen, either you fix whatever you need to fix or we’ll fix it for you.” “Wha—“ Luke drags Quinn away from the corner and they join the wave of people in the kitchen, leaving Jack to stand there frustrated.

He finally joins everyone else and stands there awkwardly, watching you talk to his mother and throw your head back with a laugh.

After a while, Jack begins to blend in with the crowd. Sitting on the couch talking with his father, he’s interrupted by his mother and his two brothers behind her.

“Jack, do you mind taking y/n upstairs to the attic to show her where the old photos of everyone are? I asked Quinn and Luke but they said they didn’t remember where they were.” Jack’s eyes immediately dart to Quinn’s and he shoots him a wink with a smile a little too big for Jack’s liking.

“…sure” he mumbles and glances at you to follow him upstairs. You two silently walk up the steps and everything is the same as you remembered it before you had left.

Finally making it up at the attic, Jack doesn’t waste any time taking down the box and opening it to show you. Your vision is immediately captured by the one of you two as kids taking pictures together for the class yearbook.

“This one is cute.” You whisper and Jack nods. You flip through the book and see baby Quinn in a huge oversized sweater and you mentally take a note to tease Quinn for it.

Gasping at a picture that Jack is holding of himself, you gently snatch it away from him and look at the picture of him, luke, and Quinn fighting. “This one is cuter! Look at you all angry” he blushes in embarrassment at the picture.

“Well, look at this one of you in middle school. Your bangs look absolutely horrid!” He says and pulls out a framed photo of you two back in 8th grade, and you lean over to snatch it from him but he moves away too fast which causes you to topple over him with a laugh

“We’re not talking about me right now! Look at this photo of you holding luke! You look creeped out” “I did think he was pretty creepy as a newborn to be honest” “that’s no way to talk about your brother” you two laugh and move the photos around to discuss more

As time goes by and you suddenly reach the bottom of the box, it’s a photo of you and Jack cuddled together on the couch together with the light from the television shining on your faces. You hold it silently and Jack leans over your shoulder to look at it also.

“I’m sorry for making it weird earlier…” he says, and you hum while you gently put the photo down “know you didn’t mean to, it’s just been a while.”

...the real reason is because I missed you, y/n." He finally says and you turn your head to look at him. "I miss you so much I haven't been able to breathe properly whenever I think about you. And every day I regret not telling you that I actually really fucking like you. Like, a lot." He chuckles at the end and you're left looking up at him with doe eyes, your eyes darting between his eyes and his lips.

You barely register his lips pressed against yours until there's no more air left between you two, hands threading into his hair as he pulls you closer in the dusty attic.

"Jack, l've been waiting so long for that. I wouldn't have waited so long if I had known..." you whisper against him and he presses a gentle kiss onto your nose.

“We don’t have to wait any longer. Will you be my girlfriend, y/n?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to nod your head and pull him into another kiss.

"Quinn always told me that you'd come back to me one day." He jokes as you two pull away, foreheads pressed against each other with your hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck

"And I was right! Give me my credit!" He yells from the opening of the attic, startling you two and you can see his head peeking from the entrance

“Get out!” Jack screams and he laughs as he steps down.

“I hope you know that our mom and y/n’s mom were betting on you two getting together tonight! Better tell your mom to pay up, y/n!”

507 notes · View notes

reidsdimples · 6 months ago

Text

Confetti 🎉

Spencer Reid x bau!Reader

Just cute 💝

“It’s not too much! How could it be too much?!” Penelope exclaims as she tosses confetti onto and around Spence’s desk.

You frown, especially because she picked the tiny confetti that finds its way into everything. Spencer will hate it.

“You just wanna torture him,” you shake your head and grin.

“You remember that time he filled my office drawer with those spring loaded snakes? Nearly gave me a heart attack! He gets what he deserves in the form of too much confetti love,” she quips as she dumps the smaller confetti into his drawer.

“Baby girl, you have your own office. We’ll never hear the end of what you’re doing to the kid,” Derek cuts in and drapes an arm over her shoulder.

“Shh! He’ll be here any minute!” Penelope says.

“Lights out, he’s in the elevator,” Hotch says more stoically.

The surprise party probably could have happened anywhere. But he would be least expecting it in the bullpen and as a result of a late night text from Hotch.

You crouch down and fiver nervously with the horn noise maker thing. Emily drags JJ behind a desk as the elevator dings open.

Spence pauses before opening the glass door, suspicion painted over his soft features. He glances through the glass briefly, furrows his eyebrows like he does when he’s thinking, and sighs.

“He’s suspicious,” you whisper to Penelope who swats your arm.

Just then Rossi exits the elevator. Your saving grace and plan B in case he decided to back out.

“I wonder what Hotch has for us,” he smiles knowingly at Spence before ushering him through the glass door. You can tell he so wanted to back out.

“SURPRISE!” The team jumps out with a roar of noise makers and clapping.

“Happy birthday Spence!”

“Happy birthday kid!”

An onslaught of attention is turned towards him and he sweetly smiles and takes it all in.

“Wow I didn’t expect this,” he lies. “Thanks everyone!”

“Happy birthday, you,” you nudge him sweetly. His face lights up when you talk to him, causing your heart to flutter.

You’re starting to think this crush isn’t just one sided. You hope, anyway.

Spencer kind of took you under his wing when you arrived at the BAU six months ago.

“It’s everywhere!” Spencer exclaimes upon inspecting his desk and drawers.

The team collectively points at Penelope who smiles wide with pride.

“That’ll teach you to put spring loaded critters in my desk!” She teases.

Spencer bites his lip and nods in a touchè manner and you find yourself smiling almost too hard. His cheeks are reddened and it always so cute.

Pizza is delivered and cake is cut while everyone socializes. You see that Spence occasionally turns his attention to picking confetti off of his desk, it seems to really bother him.

While he and JJ converse with Rossi, you decide to start emptying his drawers so you can dump the confetti out. It doesn’t take very long, mostly folders and a few fidget toys are scattered within them.

You’re dumping out the second drawer when he appears.

“What are you doing?” He asks and sits on the edge of the desk.

“It seemed to really bother you,” you answer as you tried the contents of his drawer.

“I’m pushing the meeting to ten am tomorrow, go home and get some sleep!” Hotch instructs the team abruptly. It was one am so there was a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Spence smiles. “I can do the rest tomorrow.”

“No it’s okay, I don’t mind,” you insist. “Go home and get some sleep. It won’t take long.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” Emily hugs you and then JJ.

“See you guys!” You wave them off.

Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Penelope leave in tandem. Penelope offered to help you clean the confetti but you told her to go home, she had already decorated the entire office. You could clean it up.

“Shouldn’t you be going,” you point to the elevator closing on the rest of the team.

“No I’m going to help. You can’t get rid of me so don’t even try,” Spence teases you playfully.

You huff a small laugh, smiling to yourself as you shake your head. He’s so cute.

“Huh?” Spence says suddenly. Wait, did I murmur something?

“What?” You turn to him, flustered.

“I swear you said ‘so cute,’” he tilts his head as he pops a balloon in his hand. You jump at the sound.

“I- uh- no,” you stammer. Your cheeks heat which is a dead give away.

“You’re stuttering, your breathing increased, your face is red… you’re lying,” he seems amused.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” You slap his arm with an embarrassed smile. You rush past him back to his desk to keep cleaning.

The next few minutes drag on awkwardly, neither of you knowing what to say next. Spence seemingly having little experience in the flirting department.

“Okay fine, I thought it was cute that you insisted on staying and helping despite the mess driving you crazy,” you cross your arms and lean against the wall.

You watch him closely as he turns his head toward you from where he’s leaning over his desk. His long hair and sharp jaw line causes your heart to skip a beat. His brown eyes meet yours as he articulates what exactly he’s going to say.

“You think I’m cute?” He asks, standing to his full height with all of his attention on you. No I think you’re fucking drop dead sexy but sure cute works. A small grin plays in his lips as he awaits your response.

��It’s a crush, really a small crush. And I’m sorry. It’s so inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said anything,” you ramble off and turn away from him.

Something about admitting this makes him intimidating. Especially because he’s walking towards you, fixated and silent. The gears turning in his big giant brain and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

“I like you too,” his voice comes out hoarse, a near whisper and he’s right behind you.

You turn back towards him as he pushes his hair back, he swallows hard, his face and neck now colored pink.

He’s nervous, disheveled, adorable.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly, just a small kiss. It shocks him, his eyes widening. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and then he’s grabbing your face in his hands.

He kisses you softly, sweetly. Your hands run down his arms and tangle into his shirt. You’re against the wall and his kissing you slowly, as though to take in and taste you completely. His soft lips taste better than you could have imagined as you push your tongue out to find his.

Shit.

The moment goes on in perfect passionate kissing and touching. His hands find your waist, your hips, your lower back, and your body comes alive for him. Small breathy sounds escape as you both fight for air and dominance in the kiss.

Finally you break it, pulling back and looking up at him. His lips are slightly swollen now, his pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from your hands.

“Happy Birthday, Dr. Reid,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again.

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg pics #spencer reid one shots #dr reid #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x bau!reader

344 notes · View notes

skvrpion · 9 months ago

Text

Windows🔞

a co-opted fanfiction I previously wrote, now starring Trevante Rhodes

TW: drug paraphernalia, vouyerism, unprotected sex & general filthiness

Frozen rain and snow beat down on Shawna's roof as she struggled work Photoshop. Every picture she was tweaking ended up turning into a confusing mess, one exposure line would go too high, and she couldn't turn back. Winter storms kept her boredom high and thoughts on hold as she wouldn't dare leave the house for anything else.

With a defeated sigh, Shawna slid her MacBook under her bed and went for her phone that'd been charging for when seemed to be hours. Not one notification was to be found from any of her apps, not even the games she had shoved off into a folder. The only thing left was to go through her contacts and FaceTime every single person until someone picked up. Usually, it was her sister or old housemate that would end up persuading her back into editing or asking her to show them her pieces. She could always be thankful for the two when she needed them.

As Shawna began her mind-numbing quest, a faint light caught her eye from her bedroom window. It was rare she saw life coming from the outside her home, almost everyone in her neighborhood was old, dying, or extremely weird to the point that she didn't even bother staying outside after dark.

To her surprise, it wasn't a peeping tom or aliens trying to harvest her body for experimentation, but her neighbor that lived right beside her.

Trevante's blinds were always closed, no matter what time of week it was they didn't move a peep and tonight, they were wide open. From what she knew, he was a night owl with with a hulking stature. In the mornings she'd be leaving for work, his Jeep would roll in and he'd quickly depart into his home bundled in a ski jacket (it sadly never reached above 40 in their town). Shawna always wanted to stick around to see what he truly looked like, to even hear his voice and compare it to the image she'd formed in the back of her head over the months he'd been there.

For a moment, Shawna couldn't tell what she was looking at due to the bright wash of red that painted his room. As her eyes settled, the black SD card she had in her hand quickly left her grip and scattered across the floor.

She was captivated.

Trevante looked nothing like what she thought he did. He was way more mesmerizing than that.

Smooth brown skin flexed with the sharp, defined muscles that ran up his tall frame; almost like the marble statues she studied from the Renaissance. To her delight profile was chiseled flawlessly, cheek bones high and lips full. She watched quietly as he discarded everything but his pajama bottoms and stretched, taking note of each carefully built muscle could see.

‘Had he always been that jacked?’

Trevante threw himself back onto what looked like a bean bag and fiddled with something on the nightstand beside him. Shawna felt creepy for watching him, but just couldn't rip her eyes away. As he sat back once again, he drew blunt his mouth and lit the end, quickly tossing his head back into his inhale. A billow of white clouds escaped into the air above him as he let the hit go without even an ounce of hesitation. He lit it again as Shawna watched smoke pour from his mouth, then into his nose.

She had no idea her neighbor was a smoker; let alone how he kept the smell undetectable from her sensitive nose. Curiosity got the best of her as she inched closer to her window, giving her a better picture of what was unfolding right beside her. Smoke coiled around Trevante's room and slipped through his hands as he quickly finished off what was left of the blunt and laid deeper back into the chair. Weed wasn't something Shawna was interested in or used to. With Cogic parents, anything illegal she thought about doing would quickly be crushed and out the window. Even at the age of 27 they'd still come tearing her doors down if they suspected she was smoking pot.

‘Only if they knew what door it was in.’

A lightbulb went off in Shawna's head. She had the perfect idea to: A. get out of her boring house for a while, B. cross something off her bucket list and C. stare at Trevante in a more reasonable setting. Pulling her blinds shut, she ended the show and went back to her phone that'd been abandoned on her dresser.

It was time to make a game plan.

Flipping through countless unopened snapchats she landed on one story in particular that she quickly swiped left on.

Me | Can u show me how to roll up?

DeeStroyer | are pigs flying?? Wyd 👀👀👀

Me | I'm not being funny 💀 it's my neighbor

Me | I kinda spied on him

Me | he fine as hell & he was smoking with his blinds open

DeeStroyer | so you asking me to get you high so you can go over there and get some neighbor dick? sounds like a plan 😼

Me | yes and no! it's brick as fuck outside I know you not about to come to my place, I just need a way over there. If that doesn't sound too creepy.

DeeStroyer | there's only like 6 people that chief on this side of town, he probably comes into the smoke shop a lot. I'll catch him for ya freaky girl 😉

Me | jfc, thanks DD

Me | his name is Trevante!!

DeeStroyer | marked & 📝

Shawna slung herself into her bed and screamed into her pillow like a big ass kid. She may have found the cure for her boredom-fueled artist block.

Now to play the waiting game.

...

Three dreary days had passed and not once had Shawna's neighbor cracked his blinds. It wasn't going to kill her, but it was still bothering her that she hadn't seen or heard a peep of Trevante since that one night. Tonight was the same as every other night, her music was playing, a candle was burning, and she couldn't bring herself to render the perfect picture.

As she got lost in her head, her phone began to jingle and the name "De'aria😈" flashed across the screen. DD was calling her which meant the plan worked for failed miserably.

"Wassup' homieeee."

Her raspy voice struggled to keep up with her sluggish words as she laid on her futon with her hoodie covering her face. She was baked out of her mind and ready to spill the tea.

"You want news on your dream boy?"

"Yes please." Shawna said while turning her Pandora station completely off.

"Okay so one, he's fine as fuck. But like not even that he's like...super handsome. If you put him next to the sexiest man alive, boom, blown out the water.”

She paused to take a puff off the blunt she'd rolled and blew the smoke into the camera in typical high DD fashion.

"So, I was chillin' behind the counter, and he rolls in all smooth and and asks to get some wraps - oh his teeth are gorgeous. Anyway, I bullshit and act like the the case is broke so Mark could come fix it while I chatted him up for you. I asked him where he was from, and he said some shit about Louisiana - I was a little high so I really wasn't tryna pay attention. He’s thirty something and works logistics at the Med.”

Shawna clutched her imaginary pearls. That position was the most sought after in their town, with only one hospital they’d triple the average salary for the lucky fuck who landed the gig; the only catch was that they were located in the middle of nowhere.

"You gotta be some type of straight shot to move here and not go insane. So anyway, I asked where he lived since there's only three feet of town here and I told him he was right by you."

"You what?"

"Chill out peeping tom, I ain't blow your cover. I just said my really good friend had been wanting to smoke but I couldn't go see her so he could always show you if he wanted to, blah blah blah. He has your number by the way."

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

DD cackled over the phone as Shawna flushed with anxiety, it was always fun to make her friend uncomfortable.

"Calm downnn, he's gonna text you in like 5 minutes. I promise he's super chill, I just got off the phone with him and I think you'll be over there in like a day. I gotta finish this damn backwood before I burn my apartment down though. Later girl."

The FaceTime ended and Shawna was a complete mess internally. How was she going to talk to him? Spying on him was one thing but actually making contact with this man she'd fell even deeper in lust in was going to kill her. Before she could comprehend the situation, a random number popped onto her screen with a text.

hey, is this Shawna?

She held her breath, swiped right, and began to click her her keyboard, making sure she'd saved his contact as "Tre".

It was so happening. …

Shawna couldn't feel her feet.

She was walking only a few steps out to his house, but the combination of her nerves and the freezing weather had her body iced up. Her heart was racing out of her chest the closer she inched to his door, the light from inside his home pulling her in. After they ended their texts, Shawna immediately called De'aria and screamed a thank you. She raided her closet in search of something decent to wear, settling on a track suit that'd been re-gifted to her for Christmas. She bundled up and headed to her front door, getting more and more anxious the further she paced. Now she was standing at his front door with her camera bag in her left hand and her right hovering over the doorbell.

‘Just ring it you wimp.’

Her nerves got the best of her, and she pressed the glowing button twice, hoping he'd hurry up before her fingers fell off in the cold. Footsteps paced; locks jingled then the door quickly flew back to reveal a very damp Trevante.

"I was in the shower, sorry."

His voice was so deep Shawna could feel it vibrating in the back of her head, she would've screamed if De'aria was there. Without looking she shuffled into his place and was greeted by the strong smell of flowers; the smart man knew how to keep the smell of weed away from any surprise visitors.

Shawna studied his place, full of plants and odd nicknacks that'd been donated by various family members upon his sudden move. Trailing him, she realized how similar their houses were and began her picture taking. She loved scenery, it was just other people she couldn't photograph to save her life. They stopped at his room that Shawna had already seen in her creeping to collect what all they needed for the night. As her eyes darted in curiosity, a long, black cabinet with what looked like rocks and branches in it caught her eye. It was right beside his bed, and she couldn't figure out exactly what it was for. Maybe he liked nature?

"I wouldn't get too close to that." His voiced boomed from behind her. Shawna hid her startled reaction and turned her head back to catch a glance of Trevante. He was holding mason jar and an assortment of wraps, both brand new from De'aria's salesmanship earlier that day.

"Huh?

"Most people that come over don't like animals...well specifically them."

Shawna whipped her head back to the cabinet and realized it was in fact a terrarium she was staring at. Immediately she noticed a large, bright yellow snake that'd been hiding in the corner of the enclosure and another, fat, brown one that was coiled up tightly in the bottom.

"Carpet pythons. I forget they're in there sometimes."

She snapped three pictures of the serpents and left them alone, not wanting to bother whatever world they had going on in there.

"C'mon, we can match in the back,” Trevante said while eyeing his pets, "I'm really not supposed to smoke around them."

Shawna quietly made her way out of his warm abode and cut a left into what felt like the complete opposite. It was damn near pitch black besides the blue, fluorescent lights that casted a cold shadow across the room. It reminded Shawna of all those clubs she was drug to by her friends, just a little more inviting and way less crowded. Fiddling with the exposure on her camera, she snapped what at first was a box of nothing until her surroundings became fully recognizable.

A leather couch sat aside to one wall that was plastered with graphic style posters, some donning scantily clad women and drug paraphernalia. A fish tank glowed softly to the side of a record player that was across from them, and a coffee table stood neatly between it all. It was almost as if the place had been copied and pasted from an 80s movie set.

She tried for one more of the fish tank but caught Trevante in the midst of taking his hoodie off, he still hadn't dried off from his shower and the light was reflecting off his wet stomach. Shawna quickly put her camera down and hid her face in embarrassment while Trevante laughed. It's not like she hadn't seen him shirtless before.

"Sorry for flashing you. Can I see it?"

She handed him her camera and he softly smiled at the monitor; his shirt was still over his head leaving only the silhouette of his body visible.

"Send that to me later, it's nice"

Shawna got her camera back whilst a brilliant idea formed in her head.

"Hey before we start, can I take a picture of you smoking? That's really weird but it'd be cool with the lights...this room is really cool."

Trevante shrugged and plopped down into the loveseat, opening the glass jar he'd been holding on to. Now she knew why they called it loud, the smell almost making her eyes tear. Taking in the pungent aroma she took pictures of him breaking it down, subjugating her attention to the cone he gently stuffed. It was in that moment she noticed he in fact, was in grey sweats that she struggled to not further examine.

‘Bitch don't be creepy.’

The sound of the lighter flicking brought her attention back. Trevante was staring at her with a slight grin which made her face flush hot. Thank God it was cold out or she’d died of a stroke heat stroke then and there.

"You good?"

Shawna quickly nodded and held her camera close to her face, trying hard to conceal a smile that was working its way through her cheeks. Doing the same as he did the previous nights ago, Trevante lit the end of the joint and inhaled smoothly. To make the pictures more interesting he blew a large cloud of smoke that almost obscured the lens view. Shawna had no idea how it was possible to keep that much in his lungs, but she was soon going to find out.

"I feel like a model," he mumbled while flashing his teeth through the haze, "come here. Before I get too high."

Shawna's stomach dropped as she put her camera aside. She was about to be extremely close to a breathtaking man that she barely even knew outside of passing. All she could hear was De'aria bagging on her if she bitched out, tonight was not the night she'd fail. She slid next to him and sunk into the seating, unzipping her hoodie just a little bit to let some air hit her skin. Along with her nervousness, she was starting to break a sweat and had completely forgot about the thick jumpsuit she'd put on.

Relaxing, Shawna took the still lit joint from him and let it hang off her lip. He noticed and cocked his eyebrow before moving over to spark the flame again.

"De'aria?”

"Yeah, I punked out a lot."

"Well, you ain’t got to now, I got you,” he ensured, “Just go slow, inhale when I say...go."

A rush of warm smoke flooded Shawna's throat as she slowly pulled inwards, taking note to double tap before handing it off. Her lungs, however, almost gave out before she could exhale forcing her to cough into the collar of her shirt. Head rushing with endorphins, she'd was astonished by somehow surviving her first real toke of weed. Trevante replaced the spliff with a water bottle and laughed, making Shawna flush hot again. It was something about his smile that flipped her insides around and she really wanted him to keep doing it. She let him smoke a little more while she caught her breath and stared in awe as he French inhaled. She usually thought it looked stupid when people played with smoke, but he made it look sexy. He passed it back for her to finish the rest, but she willfully denied.

Being high was different for everyone, for Trevante it made everything feel good. From cramming numbers to partying he found solstice in the euphoric feeling. Shawna on the other hand was skeptic but quickly found her discernment to be highly false; whatever she was feeling had begun to creep down her body and into her chest. Warmth was the best way she could put it, and her thoughts? They were everywhere but where she currently was, only being able to focus on Tre’s inexplicably huge arms flexing as he ashed the joint.

"You high already?" he snickered softly beside her.

Instead of forming words that would've made absolutely no sense she opted to nod. Being high didn't seem so bad, not as bad as her dad stressed it was. Thinking of him, she started laughing again and ran her fingers through her braids, forgetting what it even was that had started her giggle fest. Trevante had gotten up to put a record on, as he always did when he smoked in here. Through the dim lights Shawna could make out an old school album and closed her eyes as the record scratched on. How he was even capable of standing was blowing her mind, she could barely type a text out on her phone which now felt microscopic in her hand.

As if Cupids angels had alerted who she was thinking about, De'aria's contact number popped onto her screen as her FaceTime rang.

"Uh oh." Trevante said while taking his seat back next to her, this time way closer. His arm was draped behind her neck when De'aria connected, making the matchmakers eyes go wide. Shawna popped a headphone in and only caught part of what her friend was saying.

"-ich are you high?! And is that his arm behind you?!"

She could only laugh, causing DD to explode in screams. The plan sounded like an L waiting to happen, but it actually worked.

"I can hear music playing, please tell me you tapping that tonight?"

"Shh shut up!" Shawna whispered while bringing her finger to her mouth. It's not like either of them could hear what the hell she was saying.

"This is great, bitch I gotta smoke another one for this. Don't call me unless you got some dick!"

De'aria ended the phone call abruptly, taking Shawna back to her home screen which was currently moving around. Instead of fiddling with it she placed it next to her and turned to meet Trevante's glossed over eyes. It was then she got a full view of his face and took in every detail she could; he really did have a perfect smile, and his beard was well taken care of. She even noted his eyes scanning her chest before he averted his attention elsewhere.

"You smacked," he said while fishing his lighter back out his pocket, "I rolled a dutch if you don’t mind the tobacco smell. You in or you done?"

"I'm aight." Shawna half mumbled; half laughed. To be truthful, the more she watched him smoke the more she found herself imaging what his lips felt like elsewhere. She questioned taking more pictures but gave up on the idea entirely as he made a sudden reach for her camera. He wanted to be nosy too - not knowing the preloaded SD card was also home to self-made nude studies from her time in art school.

Shawna couldn’t have moved fast enough as they both made a break for camera, praying to high heavens it would die before he could take a gander at her most precious assets. What started as gentle tug of war quickly turned into grappling contest as she fought him for her camera.

“What you hiding in here a dead body?”

“Maybe, just give it here. Your mama teach you any manners?”

He took full advantage of their heigh difference and held the device high in the air away from her reach with that goofy ass smile of his. If she weren’t pressed for her reputation she’d laugh. Instead, Shawna jumped, and failed, then jumped again before deciding to launch herself off the couch.

“Give it back!” Was the last thing Trevante heard before she slammed dead center into his chest – toppling them both to the cold floor. He threw the camera to safety, then focused his attention on halting Shawna’s desperate attempt at getting one up on him. She squealed, struggling to release from his solid grip until she ultimately gave up. At this point both of her arms were pinned behind her head and her legs had gotten tangled between his. She tried her hardest to look away from him, the thought of what it looked like they were doing was turning her on and she didn't want to 'pop a lady boner' as De'aria always said.

"Okay I give up," she panted, “you strong as hell.”

"Apologize for jumping on me then."

"Boy please. Manners remember?

"Sure. But how you think you getting out of this?"

"Bet if I kissed you, you'd let me go."

Shawna wasn't exactly sure if it was her or the weed talking, but she was feeling frisky and didn't want to waste such an opportune moment. She watched the solid man hovering over her pause to cock his eyebrows, then lean down closer in her face.

"Bet."

He tasted like mint and grabba, and her panties were instantly drenched at the softness of his lips. It'd been a very long time since she'd been kissed like this, hell she wasn’t sure if she’d even been kissed like this at all. Though she tried to restrain herself, Shawna stifled a moaned into Trevante’ mouth, prompting him to draw back – stifling a promiscuous grin as he gently placed her camera back in her hand and stood her upright. An out of breath Shawna eyed him bewilderedly and quietly considered how the next few seconds could go. In good ole Shawna fashion, she could chicken out and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night…or she could get some dick for the first time in months.

Where her own words failed her, Trevante’ curious mind came to the rescue.

“I guess you won that one…Can I make bet?

“Yes” she blurted a little too quickly, prompting a laugh from them both. As Trevante caught his breath, he gently snaked an arm around her waist to steady her and caught her eyes – her heart thumping near out of her chest as they pressed against one another.

“I bet I got you wet just now.”

A gasp was the only thing Shawna could muster, in part to his filthy decree and also due to his hand gripping deep past her ass – fingertips dancing near the damp spot in her sweats.

For a second time she moaned, now with more conviction as the situation fully dawned on her. She was about to get laid with possibly the best dick east of state line – Trevante on the other hand was all teeth, marveling at how soft she was in his hands. To be truthful, he’d been in heaven tangled between her legs and wanted to feel more. See more. But, only knowing her for a few hours he was fully aware that she could hightail it back home if it was all too much.

But it wasn’t.

In fact, it wasn’t enough.

The soft grip Trevante had on her as tightened up as Shawna stole another kiss, ensuring her tongue held up a good fight against his as they stumbled back into the couch. By the time they separated she was seated eye-level with the drawstring of his sweats, finally getting a guilt free image of what he was working with. Even through the thick fabric she could make out his impressive girth, to her dismay it was about all she could ogle at before he tilted her head back towards his.

“You or me first?”

Before answering, Shawna shed herself of her zip up, “Me.”

Trevante responded by dropping to his knees, eyes never breaking contact as he helped her out of her fleece bottoms. For just a moment he reveled at her soaked panties, and to make her squirm he ran a gentle thumb in the center seam of the fabric before pulling it entirely to the side. His lips met hers with a ferocious force before she could chide him for teasing, turning her complaint into a meager whisper as her legs inched closed. She could only watch as he took her in with every part of his mouth, tongue toying with her clit as he kept her spread eagle by the inner thighs with both hands.

“Oh shit.” Was the only legible thing she could voice through the euphoria flooding her mind and body. With one hand nestled atop his fade, she gripped the couch with her entire might as he ate her from front to back; his head beginning to swivel as he lapped up the warmth dripping down her folds. Shawna had never been this horny before; of course, she’d heard about high sex but this. This was way more than she could comprehend; not even shit faced drunk did she get this wet from a kiss - let alone head. It didn’t help that her captor was the eater of the century. Just the sight of him nose deep in her pussy was enough to send her right over the edge. As if it weren’t enough, Trevante started the drawn-out process of spelling his name on her soaked clit; tongue dancing on the rock-solid button like it was his last meal.

He got to V before Shawna felting an abrupt orgasm coming on, nearly barking at the man for some sort of relief, “Tre stop…I’m finna, oh fuck.”

Startled he came up for air, his beard near drenched with her essence. She couldn’t push him back down fast enough as she began to climax against her own wishes. In seconds, Shawnas head snapped back, and she hyperventilated into a moan so loud it overcast the music – clawing her nails deep across ever taut back. Trevante met her cries with even harder tongue lashings, finally opting to let up once her legs stoped shaking.

As she came back to Earth, the man beneath her trailed small kisses up her thighs, meeting her blushed gaze for the first time in minutes. Shawna truthfully wanted to ball up and hide – to cum this quickly on her neighbors’ leather seats when there was a much bigger (and thicker) issue at hand was a bit embarrassing in her mind.

“My bad ma. You good? We can stop if you want.” He insisted from her lap.

“I’m okay. I just…wasn’t tryna do that so quick. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what,” he chided, “you taste good. Like I said, we can stop if you want to.”

“But what about you?”

“Me? I can handle that. Unless you wanna watch like you have been.”

A pang of guilt zapped Shawnas head – had he known she’d been peeping on him this whole time? She sat up, ruined panties getting warm for the ump-teeth time that night and gave him a puzzled look. He chuckled deeply and rose up. With the erectionin his is briefs now threatening to tent outward, he pulled his sweats completely off and gripped his hard on down. Underneath the fluorescent lights he looked godly, and his dick was every bit of enticing through the thin cotton briefs keeping him contained.

“I saw you that night. To be real I bout’ to jack off but I didn’t want to be the perv of the neighborhood,” he paused, hand slowly moving up and down his shaft, “but you. You wanted to see it too. You wanted to see me… like this?”

To Shawnas surprise he was beginning to moan through his words, right hand picking up speed in his shorts. With his free hand, the towering man retrieved her long-discarded phone from the floor and tossed it her way – already recording a new kind of masterpiece for her her collection. Though still incredibly high, she was still very horny and game to his antics; ensuring the flash was on, Shawna aimed the camera at her subject and took it upon herself to get him completely naked.

She took his low eyes into hers and cooed, “Let me take it out and you show me then.”

He let off another moan at her sudden touch, her fingertips tracing the poking veins trailing his skin as she peeled him out of underwear. Just as she though, his dick was as gorgeous as he was – thick and two toned at the tip, he was slick with precum and twitching out of control. With the roles now reversed Shawna was emboldened to see him get weak in the knees like she was.

“It’s so pretty Tre. Show me how you stroke it when you alone.”

“Yes ma’am,” he exhaled, voice shaking as he whimpered her name over the music. He worked his wrist from tip to the base of his shaft, fingers squelching as he pumped swears from his soul; the more he worked the wider his mouth gaped open – moaning with each breath he took.

“Shawna…,” his voice trailed off, eyes beginning to roll back.

“Huh? Say it loud papa.”

“Please baby. You got my tip so. Fucking. Sensitive.”

She was all smiles behind the camera, partly giddy from the weed, and incredibly humbled at her ability to take Trevante’ soul without touching him. He was moaning like a bitch, now choking himself out with that free hand that had held her captive minutes before.

Nasty ass nigga

“Where you gone cum Tre? On the floor or in me?” Shawna taunted. He paused for only a second and bit back a smile, “in you.”

Keeping him at bay, Shawna wagged her finger and propped her phone up on the arm of the couch, only letting him get close when she was ready. Letting her panties slip down her figure, she raised her legs and pulled him over by the back of the thighs. Eyes glued to the screen, they both watched as his head finally made contact with her folds, each parties faces screwing up with undeniable pleasure. Taking after his solo performance, Shawna snaked her hand around his throat and squeezed hard as Trevante slowly entered her pussy.

“Oh my God.” He exclaimed. Just as he expected she felt just as heavenly as she tasted.

A drawn out ‘Tre’ was just about all the stout woman could muster, occasionally peering down to watch him slide in and out of her with the growing conviction he had brewing that entire night. Rocking his hips to the slow tempo of the music, he made sure to keep that dangerous thumb of his on her clit and circle– he wanted to break her down for all the teasing she’d been doing, one step at a time. This time she was the bitch, cursing him with all her might as he fucked her deep into the couch. With every stroke her grip loosened on his neck, hands eventually flailing aside to anchor herself in place. To make things worse, Trevante’ face was crammed deep in her neck talking big shit while he drilled her,

Between each stroke he growled, “you taking this dick so good mama. Look at how creamy it’s getting.”

“W-why?”

“Why what? Why I’m fucking you like this? Cause you deserve it.”

Again, she began to pant just as she had when she came in his mouth, only this time she was dangerously close to ruining his furniture with sweat and incoming release. Shawna clung to his shoulders, squeezing him into her bare breasts to keep them both secure, and cried into the night as he roughly blew her out in missionary. Her walls began clenching involuntarily, eyes now glued to the roof of her skull as a second orgasm crept its way out of her. Besides their exclamations a sound akin to water splashing overtook their space. She was getting close and as much as Tre wanted to go all night, he knew she couldn’t survive another round.

“Let that shit out Shawna.” Was all she had to hear. With a screech of ecstasy her hips jerked into his and she wept; bouncing from his name to a string of curses she came harder than she had in almost a year.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tre fuck!”

He, on the other hand, was still stroking– rhythm becoming unhinged as his own nut started to unwind. Even blacked out she could feel his dick hitting every spot she couldn’t with a pitiful rose toy; in typical Trevante fashion he snatched her by the jaw forced her to look him in the eyes as the tension holding him together snapped.

An airy “Im cumming,” was all he could muster – twitching inside the vice grip she had on his length one last time he finally let it all out: warm cum shooting in her soft walls and voice groaning through the blue lit room. He was surprisingly more of mess than she was, collapsing into her, hips jerking violently as his climax came to a slow end.

By the time they both came to the long-forgotten record had stopped and scratched in rhythm with their cyclic breathing. Shawna took the moment to lazily turn her phone off and untangle her body from his as he tended to the mess they’d created. She was three blinks away from sleep when he finally returned to escort her to a well needed bed, wet towel in hand for her to clean off as they shuffled to his room. Before quite literally collapsing into his bed she quipped an earnest statement his way,

“You think De’aria gone flip out when I call her?”

“Think? You better hope she don’t see that video. She might wanna watch next time like you.”

With a final grumble Shawna retorted “You the one that can’t shut your blinds.”

And with, that their banter was even for the night. With only the pale terrarium silhouetting their faces the pair drifted into sleep, chests rising in tandem to the sounds of life carrying on outside that cozy bedroom window.

#writting #trevante rhodes #trevante Rhodes fanfiction #trevante rhodes smut #black writers #oc x trevante #black fem oc

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courtforshort15 · 2 years ago

Text

A Matter of Opinion

Pairing: Matt Murdock x femReader

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: A tale of disagreements, egging each other on, and a general disregard of the other’s opinion.

Trigger warning: So much fluff it might as well be cotton candy

Masterlist

“So what you’re saying is…you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

From across the room, Foggy snorts.

The gloating smirk falls from Matt’s face, quickly replaced by a look of confusion. “What? That’s not at all–”

“That’s what you literally just said to my face.”

Matt scoffs, waving his hand in dismissive action. “I definitely didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“You told me you don’t trust my opinion, Matt,” you say with narrowed eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You stare him down, knowing that while he can’t see it, he can certainly feel it. With a mild look of alarm crossing his face, Matt leans back on his left foot as if the force of your stare actually unsettles his balance.

He clears his throat. “Well, not when it comes to–”

“Ah ah ah,” you cut him off before he finishes his sentence. He rolls his shoulders, standing up straight, files of case notes at his fingertips from where he stands next to the table. Matt tilts his head, still looking incredibly confused. It takes everything in you to not walk out of the room and leave him to sweat it out. “You either trust it or you don’t.”

“Come on, you know that’s not at all how I meant it.”

“How are we jumping from not trusting you to not wanting to be with you?” he asks as his face shifts to one that’s a mix of incredulity and slight anxiety, voice growing steadily louder. He takes a small step forward, frowning when you take a step backwards.

“And if you don’t trust my opinion, then how can you trust me?”

“So you admit that you don’t trust me.”

“I didn’t say-”

“And if you don’t trust me, then why would you want to be with me?”

Matt groans and tosses his head back in a gesture of God help me. “Sweetheart–”

“Foggy,” you call to the other man in the room, not bothering to shift your head in his direction, eyes still locked on Matt’s tense form in front of you as you ignore the pet name. “Did you or did you not just hear Matthew say he doesn’t trust my opinion?”

Foggy snorts again, the sound of rustling paper sliding throughout the office as he picks up his folder. He doesn’t bother looking up as he shakes his head in amusement. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”

“Come on, Foggy,” Matt says, his tone bordering on exasperation. “You gonna let her tear me down this like this?”

“Not getting in the middle of it,” Foggy repeats with a wide grin that suggests he’s enjoying watching Matt be put on the spot. Foggy moves into your field of vision as he noisily slaps a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I love you, but she scares me. I’m playing Switzerland on this one.”

“I’ll get in the middle of it,” Karen cheerfully chirps from the conference room table as she picks up her own laptop and begins gathering her stuff to take back to her office. “I’m siding with your girlfriend on this one, Matt. You threw yourself under your own damn bus when you told her that you had better taste than her.”

Matt groans loudly as you send a bright smile her way, catching her wink and flashing one of your own. “Thanks, Karen. Your tab is on me tonight.”

“I did not say that,” Matt says as he runs an agitated hand through his dark hair. You bite your bottom lip in amusement, always secretly pleased at the way you’re able to rile him up, well aware that he’ll get you back at some point this evening. “You all know that I–”

You interrupt him with a smirk. “You said, and I quote, “Why would we go to that awful pizza place she likes when I have a much better option for us? You know I have a better sense of taste.””

One masculine and one feminine set of laughter match each other from the other side of the table, further fueled by the pained look on Matt’s face as his words are shot back at him. Karen and Foggy are helpless to stop the giggles at their friend’s misfortune. He flounders for a second as he flushes, and you briefly consider taking it easy on him.

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way,” Matt tells you, his tongue sliding out as he ran it over his lips, the telltale sign of anxiety. “I just thought that we should go to the restaurant off of 37th. I’ve walked by it quite a bit since it opened and it smells amazing. So much better than–”

All sympathy for the devil leeches out of you with a snap. “I dare you to finish that statement.”

“I’ve been to where she’s talking about, Matt,” Karen pipes back in. She finishes picking her stuff up from the table, curled blond hair sliding over her shoulders as she flashes a smile your way. “It’s pretty good.”

“No offense, Karen,” Matt says with a shake of his head, red lenses glinting from the office light, “but you’re not from New York, so you don’t know what good pizza is.”

Karen raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and you can’t help the cackle of glee that escapes your lips as Matt digs himself further into a hole. “You really want to go there, Matt? I think you’re sadly lacking in allies right now.”

“You chose her side, Karen. We’re not allies right now anyway.”

“Maybe not,” she says with a happy shrug of her shoulders, lips splitting her pretty face open in laughter. Her blue eyes glint in a sense of amusement that barely hides her sharp ability to tear a man down a few pegs. It’s one of your favorite things about her. She crosses the room with her laptop tucked in one arm, folders in the other hand. “But it doesn’t mean we’re enemies. Just take back what you said about her opinion on pizza places sucking.”

“She’s from Chicago!” Matt growls in frustration. “Of course it does.”

You throw your head back with a loud laugh, enjoying the look of your flustered boyfriend, finding the conversation too funny to even be offended. “New York doesn’t own the market on good pizza, Matthew. Why can’t you just–”

“There’s just something about Chicago pizza that isn’t right,” he cuts you off with a look that suggests aggravation. He shakes his head emphatically, hands on his hips. “The ingredients are wrong, the spices and sauces just don’t match together all that well. It’s a travesty.”

“You act like you know all there is to know about food and what things go together and what don’t.”

“I do!” Matt cries out as he suddenly throws his hands in the air. “I literally do. And even without my senses I’d know that nothing beats New York pizza.”

“So arrogant,” Karen quips. “Can’t bring yourself to admit that others simply have different tastes than you.”

“Karen, you eat your pizza with ranch. You really have no room to talk.”

“Pizza with ranch isn’t bad,” you throw in, sending Karen a wink as you shrug your shoulders in a display of casual nonchalance. “I’ve been known to enjoy it a time or two.”

Matt turns to the other man in the room, one hand gesturing towards his friend in frustration of being all but ganged up on. You can’t help but snort at the motion that seems entirely too desperate for the situation. “Foggy, back me up here.”

Foggy laughs loudly. It’s the kind of laugh that offers no pity or effort to console, just a laugh that tells the room that Matt is on his own. “No can do, my dear friend. I am an equal opportunist when it comes to pizza. A pizza connoisseur, if you will.”

“You all are crazy.”

“Says the man who only eats ice cream if it’s plain vanilla,” you say as you raise your eyebrows, watching the man. His mouth drops in a sharp sense of betrayal, as if you were giving away a private secret that no one else in the room is privy to, though you know both Foggy and Karen are completely aware of his extremely picky eating.

“I eat sorbets, too,” he says defensively, hands back on his hips. From behind red lenses, you see his eyes narrow.

“Sorbet is not ice cream.”

Matt tilts his chin up. “It is a sweet and tasty treat that you put in a freezer and later eat with a spoon. It counts.”

“Ice cream is dairy based. Sorbet is fruit based. Big difference.”

“I’d hardly–”

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty, Matt,” you coo suddenly, taking a few steps in his direction and reaching up to touch his heated cheeks with the back of your fingers. “You had a late night last night, didn’t come to bed until three. I can tell you’re tired and not thinking straight. Maybe we should go home instead of going to dinner so my beautiful Matty can take a nap.”

“Isn’t this a form of gaslighting?” Foggy whispers to Karen in the background.

Matt gently pushes you away with a growl of annoyance even as his lips twist up in the beginning form of a smirk. “I’m fine. It’s not my fault your pizza sucks.”

“That’s super rude of you, Matthew. I hope you’re prepared to sleep on the couch tonight.”

The smirk falls. “Sweetheart–”

“You two fight like an old married couple,” Foggy interjects from the other side of the room, finally on his way out of the conference space, mouth tilted in a grin that doesn’t bother hiding her extreme amusement. “Just propose already.”

You flush, eyes wide as you give Foggy and Karen a look that’s both panicked and pointed. “We haven’t even talked about marriage yet–”

“Shut up, Foggy,” Matt hisses as you’re talking, a severe frown aimed at his friend. “You know the ring is still being sized, so I’m not–”

Your mouth clamps shut as his words hit you, effectively cutting off the rest of your response to Foggy and Karen, and Matt immediately freezes when he realizes what he’s said. The energy in the room abruptly shifts, silence sharply cutting through the laughter and teasing argument. You don’t turn to him just yet, instead letting your round eyes take in the hand that Karen had slapped over her mouth and the pale face of Foggy who clearly hadn’t expected Matt to respond the way he did. Between Karen’s shocked face and Foggy’s look of guilt, it’s enough to cause you to swallow sharply, goosebumps lighting up and down your skin.

Matt clears his throat softly, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice how tense his form has gone, his white dress shirt straining slightly at his shoulders as he holds himself stiffly. “Can you—can you give us some privacy?”

Foggy and Karen leave with jerky nods of their heads and exit the conference room without a word, though they both take multiple glances back. When they’re gone, you finally manage to turn your face back towards Matt’s, taking in the flushed skin and eyes that have suddenly lost their glasses. He doesn’t speak, though he opens his mouth and closes it a few times as if he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it.

The silence is almost nerve-wracking, so you put an end to it.

“So…” you trail off, raising your eyebrows as you study him fondly, eyeing the way his hand twitches at his side, glasses held in a tight grip. “There’s a ring?”

Matt nods his head slowly, tongue poking out to run slighty over his bottom lip. His eyes flutter closed for a quick moment before he takes a deep breath and snaps them back open. “Yes. There’s a ring.”

A wide smile blooms across your face, and you’re unable to reign in the joy that pulses through you. “Is there…a specific question that’ll go with that ring?” you ask as your hand reaches out to finger one of the buttons on his collared shirt, your tone teasing. The action is instinctive, one you often use to catch Matt’s attention and encourage to step forward closer, and it receives the same response as always. Matt’s lips shift into a soft smile, the one he so often gives you in these quieter, more intimate moments, and all at once, the nerves fall away.

“Of course there’s a question,” he responds with a brief nod of his head, the apprehension in his eyes shifting to something warm in his blank gaze. “Is there an answer that you might have?”

You tilt your head in consideration and pretend to ponder the question. Matt’s eyes blindly trail over your face, a barely noticeable hitch in his breath betraying a mind that, despite the small grin lighting up his face, is on edge in anticipation. “Yes.”

Matt raises an eyebrow at your one-word answer. “Yes, as in there’s an answer? Or yes, as in…you’re saying yes?”

“What do you think it is?”

He tosses his head back with a groan. “Sweetheart, don’t play with me. What are you–”

“Y–”

“If I might interrupt for just a moment,” Foggy’s voice calls out from his office, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just cut off your answer to Matt’s question, leaving the two of you standing close to each other with Matt growling in annoyance under his breath even as your lips curve into an amused smile. “As best man, I’d like to offer the suggestion that pizza not be served at your wedding. And–”

The conference room door is quickly slammed shut in a brief flash of long blond hair as Karen opens her mouth to yell at the other man. “Shut the hell up, Foggy, before I cut your tongue off and make you mime your opening argument to the jury.”

Foggy makes a startled choking noise of horror before he manages to squeak out, “yes, ma’am.”

When Matt’s satisfied there will be no more interruptions, his head turns back towards yours from where he had been glaring daggers in Foggy’s general direction. A small smile tilts the corner of his mouth up as his body relaxes, no doubt having heard your mouth open with a yes before Foggy rudely had cut off the full word.

“You were saying?” he asks as he steps further into you and presses the heat of his body into yours until all you can feel is warmth.

You send him a teasing grin before it changes abruptly into a false frown. “You know, I actually just lost my train of thought,” you say in mock sadness. “What were we–”

“Holy mother of God,” he mutters under his breath. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“If you’re referring to our pizza argument, you’ll recall that I never dissed New York pizza the way you dissed Chicago pizza. You’re the one who—”

“Shut up,” he huffs in barely restrained amusement, reaching out to settle his hands on your shoulders in a failed attempt to change the tone of the conversation. Eventually he just gives in, eyes lighting up as he shakes his head. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

“Technically, you haven’t actually asked any–”

“Marry me.”

“Honey, that’s still not a question. That’s a demand.”

Matt’s hands pull your face to his, angling your head up so that he can press his lips to yours as swiftly as possible before pulling away just as quickly. “Will.” Another kiss. “You.” A nip to your bottom lip. “Marry.” An open mouthed kiss as you giggle against his lips. “Me?”

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out, Matt’s matching grin the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as he pulls away. It’s a question you don’t even have to consider the answer to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him for it. “Of course I will, but–”

Dark eyes widen drastically. “There’s a but?”

“Hush, Matthew. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

Matt gives you a frown that is far too exaggerated to be actually offended. “I can’t believe your answer to my marriage proposal was yes, but.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you reach out to tap his cheek in soothing matter that feels more like a teasing gesture. “Yes, I will marry you, but on one condition.”

He openly gapes for a second before he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Name it.”

“We ditch these losers and have our own naked pizza party at home.”

“I am NOT a loser!”

“Yes you are, Foggy.”

The smile on Matt’s face is nothing short of blinding, even as the other two object in the background. “I happily agree to these terms, but from the place I suggested.”

“You’re prepared to die on that hill, aren’t you?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. “You gave your condition, I gave mine.”

“You drive a steep bargain, Counselor, but I accept.”

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #reader fanfiction #matt murdock x fem reader #daredevil x fem reader

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beautification-tales · 3 months ago

Text

The Accountant

A Caption Tale

Ruth walked to her office after exiting the elevator. She sat down and took a sip of her coffee. She was excited as a major new client was meeting her today. This could be the break she needed to take her career to the next level. She had been preparing for weeks. The office was quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioner kicking in and the distant murmur of colleagues in the hallway.

She straightened out her desk as she readjusted her jacket. She checked her reflection in her desktop computer screen as she fixed her hair. The digital clock read 8:50 AM, and she had ten minutes before the meeting was set to begin. The anticipation grew within her like a tightly coiled spring, ready to unravel at any moment.

The quiet was suddenly pierced by the sound of approaching footsteps. The door to her office swung open, revealing a sharply dressed man with a briefcase in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. "Good morning, Ms. Taylor," he said with a firm handshake and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Alex Mercer, from Mercer Industries. I hope I'm not too early."

Ruth's heart skipped a beat. This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. She returned the smile, trying to hide the nerves that danced in her stomach. "Not at all, Mr. Mercer. Please, have a seat." She gestured to the chair across from her desk.

Ruth took a deep breath as her heart continued to beat rapidly. Ruth gathered her thoughts as she couldn’t help but be attracted to the successful businessman. She hoped she could impress him with her presentation.

Alex sat down and placed his briefcase on the floor. He took a sip from his coffee, eyeing the room with a critical gaze. The silence grew thicker as he took in the neatly arranged documents and the diplomas hanging on the wall. He looked back at her, his gaze unreadable. "I've been looking forward to this," he said, setting his cup down. "Your company has quite the reputation, and I have high expectations."

Ruth felt a surge of confidence. She had worked hard to make sure everything was perfect for this moment. She opened her file and began her presentation, her voice steady and professional. The room was filled with the soft glow of the screen, displaying graphs and figures that painted a picture of growth and potential. Alex nodded occasionally, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Wow you really did your homework Ms. Taylor. I am impressed but I do have one question.” Alex leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his eyes now fully focused on her. Ruth smiled at the compliment of her work and responded. “Please call me Ruth and I would be glad to answer your questions.”

“Well I’m primarily here for your other services.” Alex’s voice was measured, hinting at something beyond the usual business dealings. “You see, I have been facing some... challenges with self-control. I’ve heard your firm has a knack for... handling such situations discreetly and effectively. Is that true?”

Ruth squinted as she was confused by Alex’s question. She was an accountant and financial planner not a therapist. “I’m not sure I understand the question Alex do you mean you spend company funds frivolously?” She asked carefully trying not to misconstrue his words.

“No… well I do that too but I’m talking about the special service you perform for top clients.” Alex leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. “The kind that ensures their dirty laundry stays out of the public eye and doesn’t affect their bottom line. I need your help with that, Ruth.”

“I still don’t think I get what you mean…” Ruth replied, feeling a chill creep down her spine. Alex’s smile grew wider, but it no longer looked friendly. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder, tossing it onto the desk. Ruth opened it to find Alex’s prenup. She wasn’t a legal expert but the financial language was very clear.

“That’s right Ruth if I get caught cheating then I lose my company. However, being a handsome, rich, public man makes it extremely hard to resist temptation.” Ruth looked at Alex still confused as to how she could assist with this problem. “I’m sorry Alex… I still don’t understand how I can help you with this…” she replied tentatively.

“Wow, you really don’t know?” Alex leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “Your firm is the perfect cover for releasing tension. So I’m here for a session… my frigid wife is purposefully resisting me. She also hired a lingerie model as my assistant. I need a release.”

“Mr. Mercer I’m sure a good porn video can do the job. I can help you with your financial portfolio. Not that.” The words came out before she could stop them. Alex’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes turned icy. “So you have no idea that your company is really a brothel for high end businessman?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ruth felt the blood drain from her face. This was not what she signed up for. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was an accomplished educated woman and this powerful man was treating her like an object to be used. She couldn’t hold back her frustration and anger. “Brothel! How dare you! I understand that you are rich and powerful but I do not need your business you Neanderthal!!! I graduated from Yale you bastard. I’m sure I can find other clients.”

Alex kept his smile during Ruth’s tirade. “Are you finished?” he asked calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. His composure was unshaken. “Yes get out !” she retorted, pointing at the door. Alex stood up, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He took a moment to look her over before speaking again. “Your firm’s reputation precedes it, but I admit I had my doubts but consider them gone now.” He stared at Ruth deeply into her eyes. He then whispered “reformo”

Ruth fell back into her seat as if she was struck by lightning. She felt as if her skin was on fire. “Uhh what … what did you do to me?” she stuttered. She felt as if her skin was stretching all over her body. She grasped the handles to her desk chair as her body stiffened. She arched her back as her breasts exploded from her chest doubling in size. She moaned as they felt so sensitive against her clothes. Alex sat back down enjoying the show.

Ruth continued to moan as her body continued to shift. The room became heavy as magical energy permeated inside. Ruth’s fingernails grew longer and more feminine as they gained a beautiful French manicure. Her lips puffed out and became soft like pillows.She felt her skirt recede until it became a tight pencil skirt. Her hips and ass grew larger making the skirt hug her flesh. Pantyhose covered her smooth legs making them even more irresistible.

The clothes morphed as her shirt lowered to expose her amazing cleavage. She felt her panties become a g string. The sleeves of her jacket shrunk exposing her toned arms. The heels of her stilettos grew longer as her feet became more delicate and comfortable in the arch position. A pearl necklace formed on her neck with a matching bracelet on her wrist.

Her mind became cloudy as math and numbers erased like it was on a whiteboard. Ruth continued to moan as her lips curled into a smile. The wall of diplomas also changed as they became pictures of her with celebrities and businessmen. Ruth began to giggle as she felt her pussy become wet. She was a professional all right. She was a professional bimbo slut for her clients.

“Mmm fuck that felt so good! Ah Mr. Mercer! Pleasure to have you here in the office. How can I serve you?” The words slipped out of Ruth’s lips without thought, her mind now a haze of pleasure and obedience. She pulled her hair into a ponytail. She was no longer the sharp-witted financial planner she had been moments ago. Instead, she was a bimbo, eager to please the man before her.

“Ah well um … Ruth. I needed a release.” Alex leaned back in his chair watching her transformation with a twisted smile. His eyes scanned her new body with hunger. He adjusted himself in his seat feeling his cock press against his slacks.

“Why of course Mr. Mercer! I’m going to make that hard cock spew so much yummy cum. And it’s Roxy sir not Ruth.”

Roxy smiled as she stood up from her chair and kneeled in front of her client. She unbuckled his pants and grasped onto his engorged member. Alex sighed in relief.

“You’re in good hands now sir.”

#beautification #transformation #f2f transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #ass expansion #beauty is power #slutification #personality change #office

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playboysaleen · 3 months ago

Text

Kalopisa. (3)

Kalopisa: (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

Parings: Victoria Neuman x Supe!Reader (GN) (Slight AU)

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Summary: You never had the best life. Being abducted at a young age, being raised in the most wanted mafia as a weapon, hell- becoming the most feared in the gang. But…Truth is, you only wanted freedom. Being able to wake up and not have to wonder if you were going to see the sunset again. What happens when your wish partially comes true and you are offered your freedom but at what cost? Oh, you’ll see.

Warnings: Death, Swearing, everything you done seen is the Boyz is what you should expect here.

Word Count: 5.3k (slightly proof read.)

I just want to put out there that there is a age gape between Neuman and the reader. I think in the show she is like 35 and the reader is like 25-28. I dont want to make the gap so damn big but I know all ya'll reading like them older. Yall just like me lmfao. Imma take a break after this one cause ive been writing since 8pm and it's about to be 4 in the morning- Im tired as fuck. Enjoy and thank you for reading.

_______________________________

“Where is the fun in that?” You whispered as your eyes flashed the red that has haunted her dreams since. You wanted to kill her but something about her led you to wanting to see a certain side in action.

“You’re a fucking monster.” She grumbled, rolling out of bed placing on her heels. You scoffed standing up from the sofa making way to the door. You stopped taking one good look at her as she caught your gaze through her lashes.

“Takes one to know one mon amour.” she rolled her eyes as you leaned back disappearing from her view. You shuffled down the stairs seeing M.M sending you a look,

“If you a Supe; I wanna see some Supe action.”

You nodded, looking around the room waiting for his command when you swiftly moved your head to the side watching the bullet fly by your head into the wall. Your eyes locked onto his, sending him a smirk.

“What if fast reflexes was not on my resume?” Your eyebrow raised with a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders replying,

“Then I would have to deal with a very angry Frenchie.”

“You would have made my life easier if you actually sent it right between their eyes.” Victoria spoke out walking past you, plopping herself into the chair next to Kimiko. She sent the girl a small smile but Kimiko rolled her eyes tossing you the strawberry covered donut. You send her a nod in which she smiled your way. Victoria huffed, leaning back watching you take a bite out of the treat.

“Most Supes have fast reflexes, what else do you have?” Butcher asked, cleaning his handgun on the kitchen table. Hughie decided to stay back to ‘keep an eye on you’ but he really missed the days it was you and him at the shop. You reminded him of a younger(out of control) sibling.

“Ah…super strength, super speed, but not fast like that blue connard (asshole). I remember Nina mentioning other things but I haven’t découvert(discovered) them yet.” Hugie stood up grabbing a folder from his desk plopping it on the table that was in the center for everyone to see.

“Y/N.”

“Who is that?” You asked, confusion swarming in your eyes. Wait- No- that can’t be-

“This is a file I found from one of our old busts. It was associated with the Red Rivers Underground Enhanced Program for children.” Hughie started, he opened the file to find a mugshot-like photo of a younger you. You were probably twelve in it. You remember the scar that was seen starting at the top of your right eyebrow running across the bridge of your nose. One of Nina’s boys slammed a hammer against your face for attempting to ‘escape’ when all you wanted to do was see this ‘blood moon’ everyone was talking about that morning.

“It says here that subject was admitted for a few days but then taken out of the system due to being too-”

“Dangerous.” you finished Hughies statement, when you sighed, turning away from everyone's eyes. You remembered that week. It was the week you decided to put a barrel down your throat pulling the trigger. You couldn’t take it anymore. The needles being pricked into your veins, watching the blue liquid course through you. The pain that felt like someone was yanking your spine out but what made it worse, they wanted to test your weaknesses. You were their submissive little mutt for a week with no blood in your system. You thought killing yourself was the most easy way out but you remembered waking up with a headache only to throw up nothing but the bullet that was intended for freedom.

“I do not have a name. I do not remember being called that.” You spat turning on your heels following the sign that read ‘roof’. The sound of the door slamming shook everyone. Even Butcher.

“Bloody hell, the kid has no soul. No childhood. What did Nina do?” Butcher spoke, snatching the file from the table reading all of the intel they had.

“Psychotic reactions. They literally snapped an officer's neck when given a stuffed animal.” He started reading aloud,

“No interest in children's activities, when asked about parents- the patient…” Butcher let his words die out in his throat but he kept reading,

“Butcher, what did that motherfucker do?” M.M spoke out, everyone's attention was on Butcher when he sighed closing the file clasping his hands together,

“A bunch of shit that we need. In all red it said- ‘Neutralization Aim- Homelander. Viable.’ This kid is the key to sending Homelander straight to the Devil's Den.” Butcher smiled once he saw M.M and Frenchie sigh softly. You were almost identical to Homelander except you were somewhat a-

“How the hell are they going to kill Homelander when they’re literally a vampire.” M.M questioned when Butcher tossed him the file,

“Little Nina didn't mention the potential shit that bloodsucker has cause she knew her entire organization would be slaughtered. Burned to the ground.” Butcher continued, Victoria sat in her seat soaking in the entire biography on you. You didn’t even notice but you were almost invincible.

“Let’s not make cauchemar feel like they are in another one of Nina's plans. They are good people once they let you in. Besides,” Frenchie defended you, rising from his position walking to the door, “they want the same thing we want.” Victoria stood from her seat walking to Frenchie placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll handle it.” Victoria said as everyone huffed. Frenchie opened his mouth to protest but she leaned over whispering to him. “They don’t want to be pitied. They want to be understood.” Frenchie turned to face her, eyes wide but all he could do was nod.

You sat on the edge of the ironhouse building watching the sun slowly peek from the horizon. The breeze that danced along your skin sent a sigh out of your mouth, you felt free. Expensive perfume darted into your nose when you heard rustling next to you, burgundy slacks poked into your peripheral when you huffed.

“They must really be having a laugh sending you up here.” mumbling, you placed the bottle of chocolate milk next to you. You glanced, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“They must be since I volunteered.” your head turned her way when she shrugged her shoulders looking out to the horizon.

“Why are you still here? I should have killed you when I had the chance.” You spat. She turned your way sending you a look,

“But you didn't, so what does that say? I’m not who I was years ago.” She whispered her eyes still boring into yours. You tried to search for any feelings of betrayal in her blood but the way her heart sped up and her breathing changed…she was genuine coating her words.

“You killed Malina.”

“And you killed Tony.”

Damn.

“It was the underground way.” You defended.

“But there is no more underground…You did what you were taught. You don’t have to follow those orders anymore.” She mentioned leaning closer to you. Huffing, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“What do you want from me? I spent almost eight years playing cat and mouse with you and all of a sudden you want to be friends?” You spoke turning to face her. She raised her eyebrows nodding,

“We both want Homelander dead and we are the only two that can do that.” She said, you noticed the goosebumps rise along the side of her neck when you noticed the weather around you.

“That does not cancel the fact that Malina died.” You continued to defend the death of your…friend. Victoria leaned back huffing,

“For fucks sake, Malina worked for Vought.”

What? What- no.

“Malina was the one running the organization with Red River. She was the mole.” Victoria finished. Nina mentioned a Mole but after the countless integrations and fingers being cut off the mole was not confessing. Everything made sense…but you knew Malina since you were sixteen. Why would she-

“I get you loved her but why love someone that was finding ways to terminate you?” Victoria reasoned when all you could do is turn to the horizon, gazing back at the sun now fully visible.

“I am not sorry about taking Tony's life, but I am sorry about the reunion.” You actually meant it. Apologizing is something you never did only when Nina gave you that motherly look when you did not leave a perfect painting of the bodies from her hitlist. You stood on your feet removing your jacket taking a deep breath.

“I can hear them fighting downstairs about us.” You spoke, tossing her your jacket. Her eyes widen but you waved your hand,

“I’ll handle it. Plus, give Zoe a call, I’m sure she misses you.” Her eyes followed your movement as you walked to the door, sending her one last look. She could've sworn you sent her a small smile. Exiting the rooftop down to the boys, a chill ran over Victoria's body as she looked down at the jacket in her hands. She placed on your clothing inhaling your scent that brought a small smile to her face.

You apologized.

≈☆≈

You fucking apologized. You did not want to, but you did. It rolled off your tongue so effortlessly. Those brown eyes were as bright as the raging sun and the color of dancing flames sent you into this new feeling that terrified you. You were taught that the feeling of your stomach turning would be felt when you see the money in your hand disappearing little by little. The feeling of your heart racing should be felt when you need to do anything and everything to keep the underground private. If you slipped any kind of intel? Might as well tell your goodbyes cause you won’t make it to see the sunrise. Humming at the thoughts that danced along your mind, you opened the door to see everyone engaging in a very heated argument.

“Ah, music to my ears.” You sang out, strutting to the open chair next to M.M

“Kimiko’s making the most sense here.” Butcher claimed, crossing his arms as Hughie raised his own in defense, “She isn’t saying anything?”

“Exactly- Look, it is best if we let the Supes handle this one. Little Vampie-” You lifted your hand up towards Butchers name suggestion,

“Call me that again and I will rip your tongue out- What are we talking about?” Butcher scoffed at your insult but you heard his heart race. He liked you. M.M turned his head to face you sighing softly,

“We need to gather more intel on what Vought has on Singer. We have Annie and Victoria on it but we need more eyes since we can’t just waltz in there like some Men in Black motherfuckers.” He explained to which you nodded along gathering the information when Butcher now stood next to Hughie patting his back,

“And that is where you come in Little Vamp, you will be Victoria’s new assistant!” He said, Hughie displayed a look of surprise when you chuckled flashing a fanged smile,

“You can not be serious?” You looked at every face in the room and they were indeed serious. “Tu es.” (you are) you grumbled out running your hand down your face. Victoria was sat at Hughies desk sending the man a look,

“Their records are clean, you can’t say the FBSA will recognize them since all you have listed is ‘Red Eyes.’ but no visual or actual proof of who they are.” Hughie defended when you smirked at how she never really had anything on and against you. You were a free birdie- well this ‘Y/n’ could be your twin but it’s an easy dismissal with the matured eye color change and a nice wavy short wolf cut- you do not look like this…Y/n.

“Well that settles it!” Butcher interrupted Hughies' attempt to redeem his stuttering fit as he took a look at his watch pointing your way.

“Dear Neuman and Starlight need to be at Vought Tower by Nine, it is six. Hughie will take you to his place and get you a nice little office mutt look going,” You looked down at your clothes. You didn’t need to change-

“I look fine.” You said, Frenchie snorted nodding,

“You look fine Cauchemar, for a remake of the crow.” Frenchie joked when Victoria snorted, you huffed, shaking your head in defeat.

“I hope your inseam isn’t so tight,” You grumbled out standing up walking to the door, Hughie scoffed following behind you.

“I in fact have a big dick-” He argued out closing the door behind him, Kimiko snorted covering her mouth. Frenchie laughed softly shaking his head,

“I hope Hughie gets a picture of mon cauchemar.”

“If I hear another sound of that phone I am going to shove it up your ass.” You snapped at Hughie who released a breathless laugh as he stood in front of you fixing your tie.

“You look like serious shit V.” He smiled but you frowned at his name for you.

“V?” Your asked, he shrugged his shoulders adjusting your collar,

“I mean yeah…I know you’re like a vampire but I am not going to look like a dumbass calling you that so I went with V.” He spoke going over your outfit one last time giving you a nod of approval. He stepped to the side letting you take in your reflection.

“Oh the boys are gonna love this.” He said typing away on his phone. You stared at yourself taking in everything. A simple suit but it made you feel some type of way, you looked like you were…someone. The collar to your black button up hid the necklace you wore no matter what you placed on. The black fitted blazer was slightly tight due to you being a bit more built than Hughie but you weren’t complaining due to how it could shield your sleeves of scars that could maybe expose what was left of the underground. The slacks? You weren’t complaining, Hughie was maybe an inch or two taller but the struggle was-

“You cannot wear your boots into the Vought tower. They’ll automatically flag you.” Hughie said, grabbing a pair of his dress shoes to which a look of disgust flashed across your face. Hughie caught it sighing,

“Come on V, it’s just for today and maybe tomorrow.” Tomorrow????

“Do not tell me I have to wear another suit-” You started walking out his bedroom into the living room. Annie walked in through the front door, stopping in her tracks taking in your attire.

“Huh…so you can clean up nice.” Annie hummed out as Hughie walked up to her, giving her a chaste kiss. Rolling your eyes, you snatched the black dress shoes from Hughies hands taking a seat on the couch.

“Victoria is waiting for us outside the tower, we need to go.” You finished up tying the laces on the shoes that magically fit perfectly. You stood up fixing your blazer when Annie stood in front of you grabbing your tie. Lightly flinching, Annie's eyebrow raised,

“Easy…Hughie never gets his tie right, don’t need his minor mistake blowing your cover,” she fixed the black tie that poked out your collar. Huh…you didn’t see that. She tapped your chest backpedaling to the front door. You sent Hughie a nod as you followed Annie out into her car.

“Here are your comms,” she started as you both got into her car. Looking at the earpiece you grimace lightly, now you’re gonna hear them annoy you ten times louder.

“They will think you are Victoria’s little starbucks bodyguard.” She said watching you place the object into your ear, she started the car backing out and driving off. She went over the plan and who you were.

“You are originally from France cause of your accent- okay, you did a tour and now you are now working for the FBSA,”

“Woah woah, not those connards.” You spat when Annie just rolled her eyes pulling into a parking space. You sighed, nodding your head in defeat. Exiting out the car you button your blazer following behind Annie.

“Oh and your name is Alex.” She finished walking up the stairs, you groaned, shaking your head following her.

Your eyes caught the burgundy heels that connected so well with the tone legs your gaze were following. Your mouth almost pooled when you saw the beige skirt start right above her knees. She knew you were watching her, with the way your gaze slowly racked her body and to top it off a beige blazer with a maroon blouse that the top two were unbuttoned.

“No coffee? So much for an assistant.” Victoria attempted to joke but you ignored her going up the last step ending up only a few inches from her face.

“Write me up then, Ms.Neuman.” You whispered, your stare held fire but it only ignited the flames that blazed in her chest. You sent her a fake smile walking up to the main entrance. A shaky breath was released from her when she lifted her head letting her pride take the wheel as she turned on her heels making her way to the door. You held the door open as she walked in while Annie followed suit.

You watched in disbelief at how quick the woman placed on this million dollar smile and was this woman you saw on TV. She shook hands and hugged people you couldn’t keep count on in the span of walking into the tower to entering the elevator. You leaned your head back against the metal wall of the small box sighing softly,

“What? Can’t take a few hello’s?” Victoria teased when you sent her a look,

“Not when I can smell the blood of those men running to leur bite when they see you.” You admitted fixing your blazer aggressively. The doors opened when you were the first to step out, your body slightly rammed into a buff man.

“Watch where the fuck you’re walking.” he shouted backpedaling away with his eyes glued on you. You crumbled your hand into a fist as you kept your eyes on his. A hand was placed on yours when you saw Victoria leaned over sending a apologetic smile,

“I’m so sorry! It’s their first day!” She shouted out when he disappeared down the hallway. A growl bubbled in your throat when her hand gripped your jaw bringing you down to look into her very fiery eyes.

“Control yourself.” She gritted out, lightly patting your cheek with a smile when you saw someone walk by. You don’t know what happened to you but you unclench your fist as you sent her a nod. She took a step back nodding towards Annie who held the tiniest smirk, continuing her way down the hall. You entered a room that seemed to be a quarter for meetings, Victoria handed you her purse as you huffed sending her a smile. She mirrored you walking down the table taking a seat, you took a few steps back noticing a small chair in the far corner where no one can see. Unbuttoning your blazer, you took a seat placing the purse in your lap hearing the start of the meeting. A man started speaking and you tried your best but after a few minutes everything became muffled. Spacing out, you didn’t notice the woman that placed a hand on your shoulder. You looked up clearing your throat,

“I’m sorry?” The woman chuckled softly at the speed you were moving to stand up giving you her full attention.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to pry but I wanted to just ask…how is it being the vice president's assistant?” She asked, smiling your way. You internally grimace at how big she was smiling. It seemed a bit sketchy. You blew a puff of air out chuckling softly,

“It’s not for the weak, I can tell you that.” You spoke, the woman laughed quietly placing a hand on your bicep. “But I am very grateful to be able to be a part of the upcoming for Ms.Neuman. Look at her; she is extraordinary.” You gestured your hand her way as she stood talking about the military. The woman's smile faded as she gave your bicep a light squeeze turning your attention back to her.

“Oh come on, from the looks of it…looks like you are more than just her assistant.” She said pulling you in a bit closer. You can’t lie, you wanted to snap this woman's neck if she didn’t get her hand off you. You shook your head smiling softly,

“Just her assistant, unfortunately…” you softly laughed out. You heard the chairs moving and voices from the men when a hand was placed on your shoulder,

“Ashley, so happy you met my assistant!” Victoria beamed, you felt the woman's hand release your bicep when you turned your head sending Victoria a small smile.

“Oh of course, how could I miss someone looking this good.” Ashley gushed letting out a laugh, Victoria did the same but you chuckled softly to mask the hiss you held from her nails digging into your shoulder.

“Mmmh, I don’t know where you get assistants like this but I hope you have a variety of skills outside of politics…isn’t that right Vicky?” Ashley spoke laughing, patting your chest without giving you a light squeeze. Nervously chuckling, you glanced at the woman who still had a grip on you smiling at Ashleys remark. Her phone vibrated causing her to wave to the two of you,

“Work calls. If you ever need another woman under your belt let me know.” Ashley said, grabbing a small business card from her files, sliding it into your blazer pocket. You laughed nodding her way when she slipped out the room. You kept a smile painted on your face as you handed Victoria her purse following her into the elevator. Annie entered after you pressed the lobby button sending you a look.

“Now what the fuck was that?” Annie whispered-yelled when the smile on your face dropped.

“You did good defending her like that but do not let Ashley think you’re fucking the vice president.” She scolded, sighing loudly. Victoria watched the way your jaw flex refraining from saying any smart remarks. Shaking your head, you kept your mouth shut when Annie waved her phone in your face when you all walked out the elevator quickly exiting the building. You heard your conversation with Ashley ring in your ear as you walked to the valet. You rolled your eyes when you heard your compliment and your voice sounded a little louder than you expected. Neumans phone rang when you heard a gruff voice on the line.

‘A dead officer was found in your hotel room.’

You grabbed the keys from the valet waving your hand at the designated driver. He nodded making his way back into the tower as you hopped into the driver's side waiting for her to close the door.

“I know a place.” You spoke out after you heard a frustrated sigh from the woman in the backseat. You glanced through the rearview to see her nodding, you exited the free way starting your route to the destination. Once the call ended when you pulled the car into a small parking lot, killing the engine turning to face her.

“Take off your blazer.” Confusion flashed across her face but she understood when you started taking off your own. You groaned softly, rolling up your sleeves when a gasp was heard from the woman, you turned to see her eyes raking up your arm. You shook your head, yanking off the tie and tossing it into the passenger seat.

“Here is how this is going to go.” You started undoing the top three buttons from your button up pulling out your necklace displaying the sapphire gem. “You have to follow everything I do. Do not engage with anyone without me. Do not look at anyone but me and do not pop anyone understand?” She nodded, grabbing her purse as you hopped out the car, opening her door. She noticed a small run down building a few yards away that had music blaring out and a man being thrown literally into the street.

“You brought me to a fucking Supe club?” She spat when you started walking towards the club, she felt your hand sit on her lower back when you looked her way,

“The one place they will not find you. Trust me,” You whispered as she saw your fangs protracting out of your gums. Your bright golden gaze was now caged by the dark veins that swarmed in and under your eyes. You ran your hand through your hair letting a loose strand fall on your forehead. At that moment, she knew this was going to see a side of you she is going to regret but deep down…she trusted you. The both of you walked to the door when the security guard placed a hand on your chest. You were a bit shorter than the man but the energy that seeped from your skin caused him to retract his hand nodding your way.

“Je suis désolé, Cauchemar, tu peux entrer” (I am sorry, you may enter.) he spoke, opening the door wider for the two of you. The smell of alcohol and sex slapped you both in the face as you made way through the sea of dancing bodies. Luckily the only lights that were on were the black light helping the neon strobe lights pop out. The molded bodies soon became a few when you entered into the booths, you walked up the two steps that held a ‘PRIVATE’ sign. Walking right past it, you grabbed her hand sitting next to a woman whose attention was on a man snorting a line. You clapped loudly when his head shot up to meet your fanged smile. Neuman felt his heart speed up and a feeling of…fear.

“Je savais que je te trouverais ici.” (I knew I would find you here.) You spoke leaning down grabbing the man's shoulder pulling him close so that your faces were inches apart.

“S'il vous plaît, je vous donnerai l'argent bientôt.” (Please, I will give you the money soon.) he cried out, wiping the excess powder that covered his nostril. You leaned back nodding but quickly grabbing a fist full of his shirt slamming him into the table that sat in the middle of the section. A sharp breath was heard from the man when everyone around him scattered away like roaches. You looked up to see guards heading up the stairs when you raised your hand, noticing who you were they cowared away as if nothing was happening. The woman stood there in shock at the power you held in this building but what took her breath away was when the man spoke-

“Tell my wife that I am sorry.” He sobbed out, you sent him a nod grabbing the collar of his blazer sinking your fangs into his neck. Blood splattered beneath the man gasping for air when the woman flinched back at the sound of the ‘SNAP’ when his head whipped to the side. You leaned back moaning softly, wiping the blood that dripped from your skin. Your eyes found Victorias as you sent her a smile displaying your coated fangs. She braced herself for more of you as you leaned down grabbing the keys from his pocket. You sighed softly at the mess you made but moved towards Victoria extending your hand,

“Let's go.” She gave in, grabbing your hand as you helped her up walking further into the club. She glanced back to see the men grabbing the dead man and quickly cleaning the section. Her eyes widened when she no longer saw his body but the amount of people that entered the booth partying as if you did not kill a man. You finally got to the back of the club where a small door was hidden, grabbing the keys of the man, you unlocked the door that revealed a flight of stairs. You opened the door wider letting her walk in as you followed behind closing the door and locking it. She kept walking till she saw a view of the city, especially the Vought Tower. You sighed, scanning the loft of the man as you went into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet.

“Get some rest, that meeting wasted the entire day.” You spoke pouring yourself a shot, Victoria couldn't believe your calmness after murdering someone in front of many people. She walked to the kitchen and took a seat on the barstool that gave her a view of your back as you searched through the cabinets,

“You just killed a man and you are telling me to rest?”

Oh she wanted answers huh. Opening the last cabinet, you grabbed the small safe that hid behind the old pancake mix as you placed it on the small bar that separated you and her. You grabbed the top of the safe yanking it off with ease, at least twenty grand, a harddrive and vials of temp V were stashed.

“How did he get a hold of temp V?” She asked, grabbing the vial, making sure it is what she thinks it is. You grabbed the cash stuffing it into the backpack that was hidden in the pantry, answering,

“He was one of Nina’s suppliers. She planned on getting enough Temp V to test and if it worked… she was going to use Compound V to make soldiers.” You spoke with ease grabbing the thumb drive and placing it into your back pocket. You grabbed the Vials from her hand opening them, you tilted them over the sink watching them flow down the drain.

“But he was short and on the run since. I was ordered to kill him the night before your FBSA killed the underground.” You finished dropping the vials into the trash can. You walked into the bedroom/living room going through the closet grabbing a bag that contained clothes. You tossed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt pointing to the bathroom, she kept her eyes on you when you spoke.

“Wash up. Tomorrow’s meeting was canceled…I heard Ashleys call on the way down.” You walked up to her when she didn’t mutter a word. Her eyes were just stuck on you.

You swiped the pad of your thumb on the tip of your tongue running it across her cheek, her breath was caught in her throat when you placed your thumb in between your lips licking off the red substance.

“You have blood all over your clothes.” She blinked away the trance she was in walking to the bed grabbing the clothes as she walked into the bathroom locking the door behind her. She leaned over the sink, her hands gripping the sides when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. God she was a mess, blood from the man was splattered across her face and stained into her clothes. How could you be this evil ...well, she couldn't say that about you knowing the things she has done to get her to where she is now but she couldn’t stop the whimper that dashed out her mouth when the thought of you running your tongue down your neck cleaning the blood for her.

She huffed turning on the shower letting the steam from the hot water fog up the mirror. You sat at the dining table with the shot glass between your lips listening to every move, breath and sound she made.

______________

Off to bed i go.

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year ago

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The Faces of Emily Prentiss

Request from anon: Could I request Emily Prentiss & teen!daughter? Maybe Emily doesn’t notice how her daughter pulls back and keeps to herself more and more because she struggles with her mom being gone so much recently and school being a lot for her (procrastination, problems concentrating when worrying about her mom, …). You can do with this whatever you like Gill, I’m just excited to read more of yours ��

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader (can be read as teen!reader)

Summary: reader’s grades have been slipping and it brings up many feelings between them and Emily.

A/N: Okay, wow, I did not expect for this fic to come out this long. Maybe I should write more mom!Emily because apparently it’s inspiring. Kinda angsty with a fluffy-ish ending. There were no places to put in pronouns, so even though it’s daughter!reader it can be read as teen!reader.

CW: brief mention of psych evaluation, Emily is an absent mother, one mention that Emily wears weapons, nickname for reader is “kiddo” (if you think you know why let me know and I’ll give you a pat on the back for the right answer), reader has hair but length is not specified.

---

Manila, in your opinion, was the worst color. Not because of the color itself, but because of the things adorned with it - walls poorly painted by landlords, rags that should have been thrown out years ago, the hair of the snooty girls at school, the tug-of-war rope used in gym class that always burned your hands.

Folders.

If you could have tossed the one your teacher gave to you into the trash, you probably would have. I might as well, you thought to yourself. The thing was destined to get lost in the pile of similar ones on your mother’s desk. Would you rather go to a landfill, or sit with a bunch of cases on serial killers?

The folder, expectantly, didn’t respond. If it did, you would have been worried for your sanity. Then the next folder that landed on Emily Prentiss’s desk would have been a concerning psychiatric evaluation instead of your report card. At least with the evaluation she might have to pay a little more attention to you.

The door to your mother’s home office was always open. She locked you away from too many parts of her already - and even though she was well aware that some of the information in that room was supposed to stay classified - the idea of locking you out of a room that was in your own home, was too physical for her to bear. Not that she would ever tell you.

You knocked on the wood softly, though you didn’t know why. She wasn’t home. She was never home anymore; knocking was just a polite habit. You put your hand to the knob and swung open the door, then found yourself disappointed when she wasn’t asleep at her desk. Knocking wasn’t a polite habit; it was a hope that, for once, she would be there to answer. A hope that was far out of reach.

You put the report card folder on top of the stack, becoming just another document that had to be marked with the initials E.P. before it could be filed away.

In a house this big, the quiet should have been eerie, but it wasn’t. The quiet was normal. You sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out your phone, opening to your messages with your mom.

Badass Maman:

Hey, kiddo. Leaving for an emergency case. Be back soon. (Received 2 days ago)

You:

Okay. I love you. (Delivered 2 days ago)

Yep. Normal.

It was still that way an hour later when you did your homework, and when the nanny came to check on you. It was that way when you went to bed that night and woke up the next morning. Everything about it was normal.

You wished it wasn’t.

---

Phones weren’t allowed in classrooms, but they were allowed in the hallways. A familiar ding went off as you walked with your friend to second period math. Your friend pulled their phone from their pocket and frowned.

“Did something happen?” you asked.

They shook their head. “No notification.”

You pulled your phone out, and the world stopped entirely when you saw it was a message from your mom.

Badass Maman:

Flying home now. I’ll be back when you get home from school. I love you. (Received Now)

Relief flooded over you.

“Did something happen?” your friend asked.

“My mom is on her way home.” For the first time in days, you felt air could fill the entirety of your lungs. The million-mile-an-hour heart that was beating in your chest slowed to a regular pace. The tension in your too-tight shoulders loosened.

You:

Okay. I love you too. (Read Now)

---

You had all but forgotten about the manila folder holding your report card. It hadn’t crossed your mind since you placed it on your mother’s desk. You hadn’t bothered to look inside when you received it, too focused on the cursed cover to think about the letters inside.

When you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, you called out immediately for her. “Mom! I’m home!” but there was no answer. “Mom?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to fall asleep on the couch, waiting for you to get home from school after being sleep deprived for days. Still, the living room couch was void of any life. You turned to the kitchen, but found nobody there. So you made the walk to the only other place your mother might go in the house after a case: her office.

The door was half-way open, but still, you knocked. A polite habit.

She turned from her seat at her desk, took in the sight of you, and smiled. Within seconds you were wrapped in her arms. Your head landed on her shoulder, while she ran a gentle hand through your hair.

“God, I missed you, kiddo,” she said. The exhaustion in her voice contradicted the strength of her embrace.

“I missed you too, mom,” you whispered. She held you for a little longer than normal, and when she did let go, you couldn’t help but profile her a little.

There were three different faces Emily Prentiss wore:

The Agent Face: a raven-haired, modern fem fatale that runs off enough coffee to kill a small horse, she walks through bloody crime scenes unfazed. She’s a no-nonsense attitude dressed in heeled boots and a glock. With intelligence sharper than a blade and a smart-mouth to match, it’s only fitting that she works for one of the most elite units of the FBI.

The Emily Face: always classy with a little bit of fun sprinkled in. She’s got a wicked sense of humor, a brilliant laugh, and a bright smile to match. The kind of friend who is down for a night on the town or a quiet movie night. This, you know, is the face she wears outside of work, around her friends; you can only imagine what this face looked like before the agency, and before you.

The Mom Face: the one you see the most. It’s the face that can’t cook to save her life, though she tries very hard. The one that celebrates your ups and supports you in your downs. She’s started to find a few more gray hairs as you've grown older, but that’s to be expected from a strong woman raising a child alone. The only one of the faces that’s unsure about if she’s good enough; everything in you wants to tell her she is.

The face she wore right now, seemed to be a combination of all three. She hadn’t been home long enough to have changed from her work attire into a normal tee shirt and jeans. You could see the traces of mascara on her shoulder where either Penelope or JJ had needed a friend’s shoulder to cry on. The unsteadiness that crossed her expression only ever appeared when it came to parenting… when it came to you.

“There were kids, weren’t there?” you said. And though her past was full of secrets, she didn’t bother keeping this one in.

“There were,” she sighed. Once again, she brought her hand to your hair, as if she were trying to sooth herself with the texture of it while making sure that you were real. “But it’s over now.”

You didn’t know if that meant the case ended good or bad, and you were thankful that you weren’t a good enough profiler (yet) to read the answer in her expression. “I’m gonna finish up some work and then we can catch up, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go do my homework.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and you gave her a tight-lipped smile before she moved back to her desk and you moved towards the door.

“Open or closed?” you asked her, standing in the threshold.

“You can leave it open,” she replied.

It was her answer every time, but you still always asked. A polite habit.

---

Two hours later, you were still struggling through your math homework at the kitchen table and your mom was still in her office. Knuckles tightened around your pencil before you let it go with an exasperated sigh and crumbled up the loose leaf paper you were working on. You sifted through your notes, trying to find the formula, but you had either written it down incorrectly or not at all.

You pulled the textbook from your bag only to find that you’d forgotten to write down what section the class was studying. With your brain feeling fried inside your head, it made skimming through the chapter more difficult, and by the time you’d gotten to the end, you were no closer to figuring out the answer than when you started.

Fueled by frustration, a trail of French expletives left your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least keeping up with your language studies.” You looked up to see your mom standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

Even in duck-print pajama pants, she still looked intimidating, leaning on one hip with her arms crossed over her chest. As soon as you noticed her stance, she began walking towards you, uncrossing her arms. In one of her hands was a dreaded manila folder. With the ease that only a master interrogator could have, she sat down at the table and pushed the folder towards you, opening it so you could see the grades inside.

You were sure the many files on her desk showed far more hellish images than your grades, but it even caught you off-guard to see that you were failing or close to failing every class. It dawned on you suddenly that your grades had been slipping, but you didn’t imagine that they had gone down so fast.

“I-” you started, but the shock was flooding you. Emily took the folder and closed it, pulling it out of your line of sight and snapping you back to reality. Your genuine reaction must have been enough to tell her that you were as unaware of the situation as she was.

“Kiddo,” she sighed. “What happened?”

Her voice and features softened - The Concerned Mother Face. It wasn’t one that appeared a lot… just when big things happened, like moving to a new country or faking both your deaths. That kind of stuff.

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. This year has been…” With a shaky breath everything rose to the surface. “It’s hard to do things when I’m never sure if you’re dead or alive.”

A new face of Emily Prentiss formed in front of your tear-filled eyes. This one was vastly different from the others. It was exhausted from sleepless nights in random police stations across the country, when all she wanted was to be home; it was pain-filled from every wound she wore on her body that she insisted she didn’t need help cleaning; and it was that of a mother who had just brought home a newborn, with no clue as to how she was supposed to raise an innocent being into a human.

She said no words, only embraced you. After the familiar comfort of her arms calmed you, you went to pull away. She didn’t let you go. A spot on your shoulder had become wet with her tears. You held her tighter, and when a sob racked through her weary body, you hummed the tune of the ballad she used to sing you as a little girl.

Only when she began to sing the words of the song, you knew it would be okay. Only then, you could be sure that Emily Prentiss - the smartest, strongest, bravest person you had ever known - wouldn’t fall apart if you let go.

In French just as smooth as her English, she began to whisper the rhyme. A dozen times you had wondered why that was the primary tongue she chose to raise you with. You were passable in Spanish and Arabic, but it was the language of love that your mother had wanted you to speak fluently.

That reason was good enough.

The song came to an end and she pulled away to look at you, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

You shook your head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, mom. You save people.”

Emily sighed. “But I can do better letting you know that I’m safe. I can at least find time to make sure to answer your texts.” You looked down, feeling the slightest bit guilty. But your mom wasn’t a profiler for nothing. “Don’t you do that,” she said sternly - The Agent Face.

“But-”

“No buts. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.” A sneaky smile escaped from her lips. “Plus I promised myself I wouldn’t be like your grandmother and put my job in front of my children.”

That had the both of you giggling - The Emily Face.

She pulled you back into her arms, stroking a gentle hand through your hair. “I love you, kiddo.” - The Mother Face.

“I love you too, mom.”

#emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #emily prentiss x platonic!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds

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peekawoocc · 7 months ago

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LAW X READER

P.s. ok, so I wrote this within the span of a day, so if there's any mistakes, I apologize. As I mentioned in the first part, this loosely goes along with the actual chronological events of the Wano season of One Piece. If I missed any important details, I'm sorry. I'll probably do one or two more parts. The last part will probably take a while because I'm still watching Wano.

CW: Smut, Oral sex (reader recieving), yes we get cockblocked yet again my dudes.

Cockblocked in Wano Pt.3

You followed after Law once he walked out due to his fight with Shinobu. You knew he and his crew never ratted the Samurai out. To be completely honest, you were just as mad as Law, which seemed impossible considered the sour look he had.

How could Shinobu have accused the Heart Pirates of such betrayal? How could she say anything bad about them when they had Bepo? You would've killed for Bepo. He was a whole reason on his own for why you could no longer stand there and listen to her accusations.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you were suddenly brought back to real time as you accidentally walked into Law's back. Somehow you were at the Polar Tang.

"If you'd rather go back and be with your crew, I completely understand," Law said carefully.

"Oh, i-its fine. I don't think I could handle being near Shinobu anyway, not after that. Now's not the time to be pointing fingers,"

"I completely agree y/n. I'm not stranger to being accused of being the bad guy, I'm a pirate after all. Oh well," Law said with a hint of appreciation in his voice. He could tell you were on his side. Always loyal and kind.

You followed Law as he entered the submarine. It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet. But how could you possibly know? This was your first time in the Heart Pirates home base.

Law walked towards one door way and then turned to look at you.

"Stay here for a moment,"

"Okay,"

Law looked around the shared quarters belonging to his crew. He saw a few faces and noticed they were all sleeping. No hints of danger.

Law exhaled a sigh of relief as he turned back to fetch you.

"It seems everyone's getting some rest, follow me,".

And you did just that.

Not sure where he was leading you, you felt yourself get nervous with anticipation. You knew you could trust him, that's not what worried you. What worried you was the idea of being completely alone with Law. No interruptions. No more having to worry about being walked in on like this morning. However, you two had already gotten into some fun once already. Maybe it could happen again. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

"These are my quarters,"

"O-oh?"

"Maybe we should try to get some rest too. I wasn't expecting to be woken up so suddenly this morning,'

"Yeah, sorry about that,"

"No need to apologize. Hell, I should be thanking you if anything,"

"What, why?"

"I can't tell you the last time I slept for hours like that without waking up 3-4 times from nightmares. It was strange, but it was really nice. And I think its because of you,".

He opened the door to his bedroom, smiling as he did. You felt yourself blush at his kind words.

You took a good look around his room. It was well kept and clean. There was a desk next to a bookcase in one corner, filled to the brim with folders, books, and various documents. Everything from medical books to comics. On the opposite side of his room was a bed. You were surprised to see how big it was. You were expecting something smaller due to Laws lanky, skinny figure, but it made sense. His legs are so long and he must toss and turn a lot if he has trouble sleeping, must need room to sprawl out.

"Mind helping me sleep again?" Law asked without looking at you, he was blushing slightly.

"Sure!"

You felt yourself flush slightly, you felt like you sounded too eager to cuddle with the black cat-like man.

But he didn't acknowledge it. He put Kikoku against the wall and his hat on his desk before making his way to the bed. He watched you make your way towards him and generously held the blanket up for you to snuggle next to him. You prompted yourself up slightly as you laid down, pushing Laws shoulders down and pulling him in front of you.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you answered his thoughts.

"Lay your head on my chest,".

This caused Law to glance down at your breasts as he gulped audibly. How cute, you thought, as you saw him get flustered. As you watched his expression, you felt some boldness due to the sight of how weak your body made him. You giggled and before he could look back up to your eyes, you grabbed the back of his scalp and pushed his face down into your breasts. You heard him gasp into your chest and began giggling more.

As you did, not paying much attention to the man suffocating into you, Law slowly lifted his gaze to your face as he gently bit your displayed cleavage.

"Ouch, what was that for?" you asked, giggling calming down.

"Clearly you're not tired enough for a nap, maybe I should help tire you out," he smirked, and dove back down to suck on your exposed skin. Your giggling was replaced by sucking in your breath as you felt his lips on you. Law began trailing down to your right nipple, dragging his tounge towards it as he pulled your his kimono to the side, opening your body to him more.

He gently sucked on your nipple, and brought his right hand over your unattended tit.

You let out a shaky low moan. Not even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

"L-Law? W-what are you aah~, d-doing?"

He let out a low chuckle, almost growling as he spoke.

"Following through on my promise, I meant what I said,".

He winked at you before diving back down on you, slowly kissing his way lower and lower until he was completely covered by the blanket. Conventially, your legs were already spread for him to hold his body in between. He stopped his trail of kisses and pressed his open mouth to your left hip, sucking in your flesh in between his teeth as he bites you. The bite is gentle at first, but it becomes stronger, earning him a gasp from you. He chuckles again as he makes his way lower. Slowly he places wet open mouth kisses on your inner thighs.

"L-Law!" you whimper, desperately needing to feel him on your core.

He began biting at your thighs, but suddenly stopped.

"Law?" you asked, curious as to why he pulled away.

Suddenly the blanket was gone, and Law had a hungry, devilish smirk on his face.

"I want you to watch me turn you into a mess," he spoke calmly.

Before you could respond, he started devouring you. Pulling moans out of you as your head falls back.

He started sucking lightly on your clit, just enough to make you crave more of him. As you bucked your hips to encourage him, he didnt seem to get the memo.

Letting out a groan of frustration for not getting what you wanted, you looked down at the hungry man between your thighs. You were met with a gaze that seemed to have already been staring at you.

Law smirked. "Bout time you looked at me. Watch me and I'll give you what you need," he said as he began to pick up the pace.

It was exactly the kind of pace and pressure you needed. You started to feel the coil in you getting closer and closer to snapping. Then he added 2 of his beautiful fingers into your entrance making his way to your sweet spot as he lapped and sucked on your clit. It didn't take much after that to make your vision go white as you rode out your orgasm.

After you came back down to reality, you panted as you looked back down at Law. He was licking his fingers, swallowing down your essence. If he didn't give off black cat energy before, he definitely resembled the actual thing with how he licked his hand. It was cute.

"Thank you, that felt amazing,"

"Too soon to thank me, sweetness. I've got more in store for you,"

"Oh really~. Like what, exactly?"

Law slowly started crawling over you, hovering above you.

"I was thinking about fucking you until you went dumb on my dick-"

*Bang Bang Bang*

"CAPTAIN!? IS THAT YOU!? ARE YOU BACK!?" a female voice called from behind the locked door.

Not again. What happened this time?

"Dammit," Law sighed, he sounded desperate as he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

He lifted his head back, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I have time to-...get prepared?"

"CAPTAIN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? THIS IS URGENT! SHACHI, PENGUIN, AND BEPO WERE CAPTURED!"

"Why can't anyone stay out of trouble," he began. Though his words sounded harsh, you could hear the sloght tremble of worry they carried.

"Coming!" he yelled at the voice behind the door.

You heard some footsteps shuffle away from the door.

"Not in the way I'd like to...," Law sighed with furrowed brows. All you could do was giggle.

"Come on, we need to go find your crewmates,"

"Not we, I got it. It's not your responsibility. Oh, and two more things-"

"What?" you couldn't help sounding slightly dissapointed to be away from him.

Sensing your disapproving tone, he hoped that what he was about to say would make you cheer up.

"-First thing, don't tell the Straw Hats about my crew being captured. I'm going to get them back,".

You understood why he didn't want Luffy to know. You knew Luffy would cause more trouble breaking down walls to help Law rescue his crew.

"Ok, what's the second thing you wanted to say?"

"When I get back, I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll want to join my crew instead," he smirked at you. You went completely red. You were so hot and bothered it looked like steam was blowing out of your ears.

Law giggled and got up to reposition his kimono. He started making his way to the door, then he looked back at you fondly.

"Wait for me, sweetness,"

"I-i will,"

And with that, his mission began.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #fanfic

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storyscribeforthesentiment · 1 month ago

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the detective & the dark knight | chapter 9

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Author’s note: Hi guys! I know, Marie is probably annoying some of you with how mad she is at Bruce (but like... can you really blame her?? 👀). I promise their relationship will turn around soon! But for now, let’s just let her be moody, okay? Meanwhile, Bruce is out here pining for her like it's nobody’s business.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

Marie sat hunched at her desk, the precinct buzzing around her like a hive. The voices of her colleagues drifted through the air, a low hum of chatter about arrests, leads, and the constant chaos that defined Gotham.

But she wasn’t really listening. The words were just noise. Her focus, when she could manage it, was on the case file in front of her—another one connected to Maroni’s tangled web of corruption. But it wasn’t sticking.

She was distracted, her mind continually drifting to him. Bruce. Batman.

Her hands, trembling slightly, clenched the edge of the manila folder as she tried to shove those thoughts down, forcing herself to focus on work. But it was no use. Everything reminded her of him.

Every fleeting mention of Batman on the precinct floor, every hushed conversation about his latest heroics—it all pulled her back to him. It had been a week since she last saw him, since they’d spoken, and yet, he was everywhere.

Marie gritted her teeth as she tried to keep her thoughts on the case, but it was impossible. She leaned back in her chair, exhaling a sharp breath.

Gordon and Batman had taken over the Red Lotus case. Maroni hadn’t been seen since the incident at the docks, and no one in Gotham dared give any information away about him.

Marie took on smaller cases over the last week, like she had been doing before Gordon assigned her to the Red Lotus case. Carjackings, hit and runs - the usual in Gotham.

There was a hollow comfort in this routine, in the cases that didn’t involve Gotham’s criminal underworld pulling at her heartstrings.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t crave the feeling of getting close to solving the Red Lotus case. Chasing down leads, getting so close to bringing down Maroni.

Marie missed the adrenaline. She missed the late-night stakeouts and the thrill of getting closer to unraveling the tangled web of Gotham’s crime syndicates.

But what she missed more — and would never admit, even to herself — was the feeling of having Batman by her side, knowing she was safe with him watching her back. And there was something so comforting, knowing Bruce was waiting for her with open arms when she got off her shift, his presence a sanctuary amidst the chaos.

Not anymore.

She could still hear the muffled voices of a couple of detectives chatting near the coffee machine. She strained her ears, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“…heard Batman stopped another gang down in the Narrows last night.”

“Guy’s a damn ghost. Always one step ahead.”

“He saved a whole crew of people in the Palisades, too.”

Of course, he did.

Marie closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. She knew Batman was out there, fighting Gotham’s battles like nothing had changed. He had a way of compartmentalizing things, shutting his emotions off when the suit was on.

That was part of what made him him. But to Marie, it just added salt to the wound. It was like she didn’t exist in the part of his life that mattered. Or maybe she did, but she wasn’t sure how. Bruce had kept his identity hidden from her for so long that now everything felt like a lie.

She tossed the file aside, unable to deal with it anymore, and rose to her feet. She needed air. Space. The precinct suddenly felt stifling, as if the walls were closing in, her co-workers’ glances brushing against her like tiny knives. No one else knew what she was dealing with—what she couldn’t talk about.

She wandered to the nearest window, watching the streets below. The city was still churning, still breathing. Gotham didn’t stop for anyone, not for her, and certainly not for Bruce Wayne.

She remembered when she used to think of him as just a man—Gotham’s billionaire playboy who throws lavish charity events and galas without a second thought. Then, of course, she found out the truth. And now, knowing who he really was, it made everything so much more confusing. She didn’t know who to hate more—the man or the mask.

Leaning against the windowsill, her mind drifted back to one of the last normal moments they’d shared—when they’d shared ice cream in his kitchen. It was a rare moment where she felt completely happy, and she could feel the happiness radiating from Bruce, too. It was actual moment of peace in a life that seemed only full of shadows.

She could still see the way he looked at her, his eyes soft, affectionate—different from the cold, calculated expression he wore as Batman.

That was real, right?

Marie inhaled sharply, pushing the memory away. She had to. There was work to do.

—-------------------------------

The rooftop was slick with rain from the evening storm, the faint shimmer of streetlights glistening on the wet concrete. It was always like this in Gotham—the city almost seemed to weep in its own misery. But that was why Batman thrived here. It his city to save.

Jim Gordon stubbed out his cigarette, letting the final puff of smoke fade into the cold night air. He was standing with his back to the rooftop edge, his usual trench coat wrapped tightly around him.

Next to him, in the shadows, was the figure of Gotham’s Dark Knight—Batman. They stood in silence, only the faint dripping of rainwater breaking through the quiet.

“Another night, another criminal off the streets,” Gordon said after a moment, referring to the convicted murderer they just caught together. Just one of the many in Gotham.

“Feels like it never ends.” Gordon continued, his voice rough from years of cigarette smoke and hard nights.

Batman was quiet, his face unreadable beneath the cowl, eyes scanning the city below.

Gordon could always tell when something was bothering him. Despite the stoic front, the silence tonight felt heavier than usual. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “I noticed you’ve been... different lately.”

Batman remained still, but Gordon could sense the subtle tension.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Detective Manning, but it’s clear something’s changed,” Gordon continued, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. “She’s a damn good detective. One of the best I’ve ever seen. But something’s eating at her, and I can’t help but think it’s tied to you.”

Batman finally spoke, his voice gravelly and low. “It’s complicated.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Everything’s complicated in this city.”

Batman’s gaze remained on the skyline, the glow of Gotham casting long shadows across the rooftop. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He said in a low tone.

Gordon studied him for a moment. He’d been working with Batman for years, yet he knew almost nothing about him. Though, he had lived long enough to recognize when a man was struggling. Even if he didn’t show it on the surface, there was always something beneath—the weight of the mask, the burden of secrets.

“Look,” Gordon said after a pause, his tone softening, “I don’t need to know all the details. But if you’ve got into something with her, you better figure it out. She’s not the type to let things slide. And trust me, you don’t want to lose her.”

Batman’s jaw tightened beneath the cowl. “I know.”

After a few more minutes of silence, with only the distant hum of Gotham filling the air, Batman finally broke it, his voice low but laced with concern. “Is she okay, though?”

Gordon glanced at him, noting the rare crack in Batman's stoic demeanor. “She’s holding up.”

The rain started to fall again, a light drizzle that filled the silence between them.

Gordon took a step closer, his voice low but firm. “I’ve seen a lot of people come and go in this city. Most of them don’t make it.” He paused briefly, thinking carefully about his next words, “But Marie? She’s different. She’s not just a good detective, she’s someone you can trust.”

When Gordon was met with silence, he continued slowly, “If you let her walk away... you’ll regret it.”

Batman didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were fixed on the dark streets below, but his mind was elsewhere. On Marie. On the weight of his decisions, and the lives affected by them.

“I’ve already hurt her,” Batman said quietly, almost to himself.

Gordon shook his head. “People get hurt. But if you care about her, you make it right. You don’t just disappear into the shadows and hope it goes away.”

Batman finally turned to face Gordon, the rain now coming down harder, creating a soft rhythm on the rooftop.

“She’s... not like anyone else,” Batman admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gordon gave a faint smile, the kind of knowing look that comes from years of experience. “Then don’t lose her. Whatever’s going on, don’t let this city take her from you too.”

They stood in silence again, the rain now falling steadily around them, washing away the grime of the city. Batman didn’t say another word, but the weight of Gordon’s advice hung in the air, sinking into him.

Without a sound, Batman stepped back, disappearing into the shadows once more.

—-------------------------------

Marie stared at her computer screen, pretending to be focused on the case files in front of her. In reality, her mind was miles away.

Across the room, Harvey Bullock slouched at his desk, a half-eaten donut in hand, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You look like hell, Manning,” Bullock muttered around a mouthful of pastry.

Marie gave him a sidelong glance, leaning back in her chair. “Thanks, Bullock. Always the gentleman.”

Bullock grinned, crumbs falling from the corner of his mouth. “Just calling it like I see it. What, Gotham’s finest can’t take a few days off without looking like she’s been hit by a bus?”

“Maybe Gotham’s finest isn’t sleeping too well lately,” Marie shot back, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Harvey Bullock had that effect. He could irritate anyone within a ten-foot radius, but somehow, he managed to lighten the mood when things got too heavy.

Bullock leaned back, eyeing her with exaggerated concern. “Too much caffeine? Or not enough?”

Marie shook her head, chuckling despite herself. “You should be a therapist, Harvey. You’ve got all the answers.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He popped the last bit of donut into his mouth and wiped his hands on his shirt.

“Yeah, well, don’t quit your day job,” she teased, leaning forward again, though her attention was still distant.

“You sure you’re okay, though?” Bullock’s voice dropped slightly, the humor still there but laced with genuine concern, “Ya know, since the docks.”

Marie sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m fine. Just... tired.”

Bullock grunted, not buying it, but before he could press further, the door to the office swung open, and Gordon strode in with purpose.

“Marie, a word?” Gordon’s voice was firm but not harsh, cutting through their banter. He didn’t seem interested in whatever lighthearted exchange he had walked in on.

Bullock raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “I’ll take that as my cue to go get another donut.”

Marie offered Bullock a weak smile as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, giving her a half-salute on his way out.

Gordon waited until Bullock was out of earshot before stepping closer to her desk. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with something heavier, something more personal.

Gordon cleared his throat before speaking. “Batman asked about you.”

She stiffened, her hand dropping to her lap. “Did he?” Her voice was neutral, trying to mask the storm brewing inside her.

“He did. First he asks about you when I’m in the hospital, then again tonight…” Gordon looked at her carefully, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shifts in her expression. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

Marie’s heart pounded, but she kept her face steady. “No, Jim. It’s... personal.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Personal?”

She hesitated. Her first instinct was to shut the conversation down, to bury it deep where no one could pry. But this was Gordon, the man who had been like a mentor to her. She trusted him more than anyone in the department.

Still, how could she explain this? That the man behind the mask wasn’t just some anonymous vigilante anymore but someone she loved, someone she couldn’t bear to see?

“Look, Jim... it’s better if you don’t know,” she finally said, her voice lower now, almost pained. “Trust me. It’s just... complicated.”

Gordon studied her in silence for a moment. He didn’t push, didn’t pry, but he didn’t need to. “Marie, whatever’s going on with you and Batman... I’m not asking for details. But it’s clear to see that something’s weighing on him. And whatever it is... it’s you.”

Marie’s throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t. So she stayed silent, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a file on her desk.

Gordon leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “I know this city can make us feel like we have to carry everything alone. But a man who’s willing to risk everything, even his own life, to help others…that’s a good man, Marie. And good men are hard to come by in Gotham.”

His words struck her, harder than she expected. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave him a small nod, unable to respond with anything more. Gordon gave her one last look, the kind that said he knew she wasn’t telling him everything but trusted her judgment.

He stood up and made his way to the door. Before he left, he paused. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

Marie watched him go, her heart still racing, his words echoing in her mind.

—-------------------------------

Later that afternoon, Marie found herself standing in an old, worn down gas station just outside of downtown Gotham. The gas station attendant had been the victim of a robbery, one of the smaller cases Marie had been assigned to recently.

She listened as the woman recounted the robbery in shaky detail, but Marie’s mind wandered.

“So then, he pointed a gun at me. It was a small gun…” She said, trembling.

The words washed over Marie as she scribbled them down in her notepad, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

Weeks ago, she had been knee-deep in the Red Lotus case, chasing down mobsters, solving murders, feeling the pulse of Gotham’s criminal underground under her fingertips. But now? This was mundane, routine.

Marie glanced down at her notebook, absently jotting notes. The pen felt heavy in her hand. It was hard to care when her mind was elsewhere, locked on cases bigger than gas station heists.

“I... I just froze, you know?” the woman said, her voice quivering. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Marie nodded, offering a half-hearted, “You did the right thing by cooperating.”

The woman kept talking, but Marie’s gaze drifted above, to Gotham’s distant skyline. On top of a nearby building, Marie saw the brief shuffle of a shadow.

No, not shadows. Movement.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of whatever the movement was. High above, silhouetted against the dimming Gotham sky, was a figure cloaked in black.

Batman.

He was watching her.

Marie’s breath hitched, her heart skipping a beat. She turned her attention back to the woman, trying to stay composed, but the weight of his presence bore down on her. It was as if he was always there, in the corner of her mind, lingering in the shadows, never fully gone.

She wrapped up the interview quickly, telling the victim that a patrol officer would escort her home. The moment the woman left, Marie stood and crossed her arms, peering up to the rooftops. Batman hadn’t moved, still standing like a silent sentinel, observing.

Was he there for her? Was he watching over her, or was he just waiting to see if she’d call for him again?

She couldn’t stop the bitter thought from creeping in: Was he keeping tabs on her, like he had done with so many others? Was she just another case to him, another assignment?

Marie stepped back, heading towards her car. She didn’t need him. She could handle herself.

But as she walked away, that familiar pull was still there, stronger than ever. A part of her wished he would swoop down, that they could talk, that everything could be fixed with just a few words.

Yet, she knew deep down, nothing was ever that simple in Gotham.

—-------------------------------

Marie spent the next week navigating the streets of Gotham, tracking down suspects and interviewing victims. The interviews came and went—each victim recounting their stories of theft or assault—and with each case, Marie felt more and more detached from the pulse of the city.

The mundane details of everyday crime began to blur together, overshadowed by the thrill of what she had been working on before.

As she moved from one part of the city to another, she occasionally caught glimpses of a familiar silhouette in the shadows. Each time, her heart raced—seeing Batman watching her from a distance brought an unexpected warmth to her chest.

Yet, just as quickly as she spotted him, he would disappear, slipping away into the darkness like a whisper. It both excited and frustrated her, fueling her longing for connection even as she tried to keep her distance.

Nearing the end of her shift, she received a call about an assault in a dimly lit alley. Rushing to the scene, she felt a sense of urgency. This was the kind of case she could get lost in—a chance to bring justice to someone who needed it.

When she arrived, the scene was chaotic but contained. The victim, a young woman, sat on the ground, trembling and visibly shaken. Marie’s heart ached for her. And standing protectively beside her was none other than Batman, his presence a commanding reassurance amidst the chaos.

Batman spotted her getting out of the car, his gaze locked onto her as she approached. Bruce felt a deep ache in his chest, the urge to reach out for her overwhelming. Marie looked beautiful, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, illuminated by the dim streetlights.

Yet, he could tell she hadn’t been sleeping well; the shadows under her eyes hinted at the weight she carried. Having her this close again felt so right, igniting a familiar warmth in him that only she could create.

He fought against the impulse to step forward and reach for her, knowing the complexities that lay between them, but every instinct urged him to close the distance.

“Detective Manning,” he acknowledged, his voice low but firm.

“Batman,” she replied, glancing from him to the young woman, who seemed to be comforted by his presence. “What happened?”

“When I arrived, she was being assaulted,” he said, his gaze still on the woman. “I took care of her attackers. They won’t bother her again.”

The woman looked up at Batman, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Marie felt a warmth spread through her as she observed the bond forming between them. There was something profound in the way Batman’s stoic demeanor softened, just for a moment, as he acknowledged the woman’s thanks.

“You’re safe now,” he assured her, his tone surprisingly gentle. “The real help is here.” He gestured to Marie and the other patrol cops.

Marie stepped closer, kneeling beside the woman. “I’m Detective Manning. You’re going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

The woman looked between them, her expression shifting from fear to relief. “I don’t know what I would have done without him,” she said, her voice stronger now. “He saved my life.”

Marie felt a pang of bittersweet emotion. It was true. Batman was a hero, and in moments like these, she understood the weight of what he did for Gotham.

Batman met her gaze, and in that instant, they shared an understanding that transcended words. The moment lingered, filled with unspoken emotions and unresolved tension.

“I need to get her to the hospital,” Marie said, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” Batman replied, stepping back, his figure melding into the shadows behind him.

As he disappeared into the night, Marie felt the familiar rush of admiration mixed with frustration. She turned back to the woman, offering her a reassuring smile. “Let’s get you the help you need.”

The woman nodded, her gratitude evident in her eyes. With Batman’s bravery as a backdrop, Marie felt a renewed sense of purpose. Even in the aftermath of heartbreak, she knew she could still make a difference.

—-------------------------------

The warm glow of the evening sun filtered through the window as Marie settled into her cozy apartment, surrounded by the familiar scents of Chinese takeout.

She plucked a fortune cookie from the bag, cracked it open, and read the message aloud, chuckling softly to herself. “You will find a new adventure soon.”

Marbles, her fluffy gray cat, meandered over, nudging her hand with his head. She laughed, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “What do you think, Marbles? New adventure or just more cases?”

The cat purred in response, as if he understood her dilemma. She absentmindedly picked at her food, trying to quell the persistent hunger that came with her long hours at the precinct. Just as she took a bite of fried rice, her phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, Marie,” Gordon’s voice came through the receiver, slightly breathless. “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off.”

Marie swallowed her food,. “What’s up, Commissioner? Did someone get into trouble?”

“Actually, yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. I hate to do this to you, but I have a meeting with Batman scheduled for this evening.” Great, Marie thought.

Gordon continued, “We need to go over his recent findings on the Red Lotus case, but I’m swamped with administrative stuff. One of our officers is being charged with racketeering, and I can’t get away.” She could hear chaos in the background, meaning he was likely at the courthouse already.

Marie sighed, knowing the importance of the meeting but not feeling ready to face Batman alone, “So you want me to meet up with Batman instead?”

“Yeah.” He said, taking a moment, “Listen, I know things between you two aren’t great right now, and I’m sorry to put you in this position. But it’s crucial. He’s got a lead on Maroni’s whereabouts. If you can get Batman to share his findings with you, it might help us a lot. Stuff like this can’t wait.”

Marie felt a flicker of annoyance, still grappling with her feelings. “Sure,” she said, attempting to keep her tone light, “I can do that.”

“Listen, I trust you with him, and I know you’ll handle it. Just... be careful, okay?”

“Always,” she replied, her heart fluttering slightly at the thought of seeing him again.

After hanging up, Marie took a moment to gather her thoughts. The mix of longing and apprehension made her stomach churn, leaving her uncertain about how she would handle seeing Batman again.

She finished her takeout, set the containers aside, and gave Marbles a quick scratch behind the ears. “Looks like I’ve got some work to do,” she said, her voice playful yet tinged with anticipation.

Later that evening, the cool breeze swept across the Gotham skyline as Marie climbed the stairs up to the rooftop. The city spread out beneath her, its familiar chaos muted by the distance.

Her heart raced at the thought of seeing Batman again, the man who had both saved her and complicated her life in so many ways.

As she stepped onto the rooftop, she caught a glimpse of him leaning against the edge, his cape billowing softly in the wind

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and for a brief moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words.

“Detective,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, surprised but pleased to see her.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone lighter than she felt. “Gordon sent me. He couldn’t make it.”

He nodded, the shadows on his face concealing his thoughts but not the warmth in his gaze. “It’s good to see you.”

Unsure of how to respond, she jumped into business talk, “Gordon mentioned you have a lead on Maroni. Something about him not being back in town for a few days?”

“Yeah,” Batman confirmed, his expression serious. “I know a good location to find him, but… he’s off the grid for now. A shipment of drugs is coming in three days from now, and Maroni definitely won’t miss it.”

Marie crossed her arms, feeling the tension between them lingering in the air. “So, I guess we’re back to playing the waiting game, then.”

“Looks that way,” he replied, a hint of frustration in his tone. “I’m sorry Gordon put you in this position. I know things aren’t exactly... ideal between us.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “But it’s fine. I’ll manage.”

He took a step closer, and she could feel the intensity of his presence. “How’s your nose?”

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Still too big for my face, but if you’re talking about the punch from Zucco, it’s healing just fine.”

Bruce chuckled softly.

As the weight of the situation settled around them, he regarded her intently. “How’s it been going? With the robbery and assault cases.”

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just part of the job. I guess someone has to keep Gotham safe, even if I’m not in a cape.”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “You’re brave, Marie. More than you realize.”

She felt a warmth wash over her at his words, and for a moment, the walls she’d built began to waver. “And you’re always lurking around.” she said, a playful smirk forming. “A little stalker-ish, don’t you think?”

He allowed himself a small smile. “I told you I’d always check in on you. I wouldn’t be able to focus on my work if I didn’t know you were safe.”

Marie raised an eyebrow, the teasing tone creeping back in. “It’s a little creepy, you know.”

“More like looking out for you,” he replied, his voice steady. “I can’t help it. You mean a lot to me.”

In that moment, everything else faded away—the cases, the tensions, the pain. It was just them, standing on that rooftop, their hearts laid bare in the quiet of the night.

She held his gaze, the tension between them electric, charged with unspoken feelings.

Bruce’s expression softened slightly as he spoke, his voice low and sincere. “If I know anything about you, it must be driving you crazy working on those smaller cases. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Marie forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Even working smaller cases can make a difference,” she replied, trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Bullshit.” His tone was sharp, cutting through her facade.

She frowned, crossing her arms defensively. “Really, I’m fine with what I’m doing.”

He turned his gaze to the sprawling streets of Gotham below, his silence more telling than any words.

The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her, and after a heartbeat of contemplation, she let out a resigned sigh. “Alright. Shit, I miss the thrill of chasing the big cases. But I’m managing. Just…trying to keep my head above water.”

Bruce nodded, relief flickering in his eyes at her honesty. “I’m always happy to get my partner back, you know.” His voice took on a teasing lilt, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “After all, Gordon doesn’t keep me on my toes like you do. And let’s be honest, he’s not nearly as nice to look at.”

Marie rolled her eyes, a laugh bubbling up. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he replied, stepping just a little closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “But you love it.”

“Bruce,” she began, the name slipping out before she could stop herself. The moment felt charged, as if the air crackled with the weight of their shared history and unspoken feelings.

“Marie,” he replied, his voice softer now.

“I just don’t know how to navigate all of this,” she admitted, her vulnerability shining through.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, their connection lingering in the air. “But we’ll figure it out.”

As they stood there on the rooftop, the city below them alive and chaotic, Marie knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t the end. It was merely a step toward something new.

—-------------------------------

The rain drummed steadily on the rooftops of Gotham, blurring the lines between night and day. Batman stood at the edge of a crime scene, the dim glow of police lights illuminating the chaos below.

A recent robbery had turned violent, leaving the alley strewn with shattered glass and discarded evidence. He moved with purpose, his mind still tangled in thoughts of Marie.

Since their last encounter, she had occupied his thoughts incessantly. He thought about how her eyes had softened when they discussed their partnership on the rooftop, igniting a flicker of hope within him.

Perhaps there was a chance she might consider working with him again—and maybe, just maybe, there were still feelings lingering beneath the surface.

Batman arrived at the crime scene and walked up slowly, taking in the commotion of the scene.

Bullock approached, his expression annoyed as he looked Batman up and down. “Do what you need to do, just don’t mess with my crime scene,” he said, gruff. Batman nodded, barely giving Bullock a passing glance.

As he analyzed the evidence, the rain pattered softly against his cape. In the background, he could hear Bullock chatting with the new young detective, Ryan Cole. Their conversation started with the usual detective banter—sports, the best places to eat—before it shifted into something more vulgar.

“Hey, Bullock,” Cole’s voice cut through the steady rhythm of the rain. “What’s the scoop on Detective Manning? Heard she’s quite the looker.”

Bullock rolled his eyes, already anticipating where this was going. “Watch yourself, Cole. Manning’s not just eye candy. She’s actually a good detective. One of the few. She’s nice.”

“Yeah? A nice piece of ass, if you ask me.” Cole leaned in, a smirk plastered on his face. “You think she’s got a boyfriend? And if she does, do you think he’s keeping her happy?”

“Like she’d ever settle for your sorry ass.” Bullock shot back playfully, crossing his arms. “If you’re thinking about making a move, I’d advise against it. She’s involved with Wayne.”

Cole chuckled dismissively. “So she’s a money chaser. I respect it. Heaven knows we don’t make shit at this job.” He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag of it. Bullock shook his head in response, chuckling.

The casual disrespect in Cole’s tone made Batman’s fists clench. He stood there, simmering with rage at anyone who dared to talk about Marie like that. Just as he prepared to intervene, Cole edged closer to the crime scene, nearly trampling evidence.

“What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s not like she’s off-limits. Besides, I’d take my chances.”

Batman’s protective instincts surged as he saw Cole’s casual demeanor. Seizing the moment when Cole turned away, he lunged forward, pinning the detective against the alley wall with a swift motion, his hand pressing firmly against Cole’s throat.

Cole’s eyes widened with fear, gasping for breath as he instinctively clawed at Batman’s arm. Bruce quickly realized the precarious position he was in—he couldn’t outright tell Cole not to speak about Marie; that would reveal too much and invite unwanted questions.

“You’re about to compromise the crime scene by stepping on evidence,” Batman growled, his voice low and menacing.

Cole’s bravado evaporated under the weight of Batman’s grip. “Okay! Okay! I get it, man! Just—”

Bruce studied Cole, wrestling with how to proceed. Against his better judgment, he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Keep your comments to yourself and stay away from her.” He released Cole but maintained a watchful eye, ready for any sudden movements.

Cole nodded vigorously, trying to regain his composure. “I wasn’t serious, man. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Bullock watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and surprise. “You just got schooled by a fuckin’ Bat,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

As Batman returned his focus to the crime scene, a sense of satisfaction coursed through him. He had defended Marie, and that protective instinct ignited something deep within him—a fire he couldn’t ignore.

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